"I NEED her!"
Regina's eyes snap to the stairs, to the loft where Henry's asleep on Emma's bed.
"Lower your voice," she hisses. "Because if you wake my son I'll show you an entirely new meaning to that pain you're feeling right now."
They're all hurting, they're all grieving. But her son hasn't slept properly in six days and she'll kill this pirate in a mere second if his childish outburst woke Henry.
He's practically in tears as it is and while she completely understands that, the way Regina needs Emma and the way Hook needs Emma is wholly different.
Hook only glares at her, not even a sliver of remorse registering in his features. Regina tamps down the urge to throttle him. Just barely.
"Look around this room, Hook. You are not the only one she loves and you're certainly not the only one who loves her in return." Her voice cracks on the last words and she's too drained to feel anger at the tears building up and blurring her own vision.
Hook only clenches his jaw and searches her face. Like he's assessing her, trying to discern whether he wants to believe her tacit confession or not.
But it's been weeks without answers. Weeks of dead ends and riddles they still haven't figured out and they're all so tired.
So like the self-righteous pirate he is, he takes another step into her personal space - she smells the rum on his breath instantly - and places his hook, curved edge cold and glinting, over her chest. Her eyes don't flicker to it. Don't leave his for a second.
"Is there something you'd like to share with us, your Majesty?" It's a pasty leer and Regina wants to punch him.
She grinds her teeth even as she feels something shoot through her veins, something white hot and raw, and it's strong enough that she curls her hands into fists to abate it.
"Regina, what's he talking about?"
It's Snow. And she wishes she could be a bit more annoyed by the question but she feels a little off balance at that thing still worming through her so she just drudges up every last ounce of irritation she has left within her and aims it at the drunken, idiotic (in a completely different way than Emma) fool in front of her.
"He's drunk," she sneers, hands moving to her hips. "Like he always is." She leans in closer to him, voice turning into something soft and mocking. "What's the matter, Hook? Don't know how to be good when you're not receiving a kiss in reward for it?"
He looks unhinged at the barb and Regina only stands taller, eyes dancing with the free reign to cut. To feel something other than devastation. To let out all this anger she feels, to hone it and use it against someone. Anyone. To get it out of her.
Her body buzzes with sudden emotion then and she's actually taken aback at the most prominent.
She's feeling possessive.
Of Emma.
And that thing has now reached the base of her throat and she's so confused by what it means but she's also so, so angry. She's angry at Hook, she's angry at the two idiots (also in a completely different way than Emma) looking between the both of them with wide, wide eyes, she's angry at Robin who's suddenly gone silent, and she's angry at Emma.
By God, is she absolutely livid at Emma. Because not only does she miss her, not only does she feel the fruitlessness of the hope that won't stop gnawing at her fingers and toes, not only does her heart squeeze at the light leaving her son's eyes as each day passes and his mother remains lost, but she's also starting to recognize what that damned thing is still weaving and working its way through her bloodstream like it belonged there all along. Like it had every goddamn right to be there and it wasn't going to leave or give up. Ever.
"At least the love Emma and I have is pure." And Regina comes back from her thoughts with a sharp sound, a cross between a snort and a laugh. Hook's nostrils flare and before she can speak her thoughts he cuts her off.
He looks over to Robin and Regina follows his gaze. For the first time in this verbal brawl, Regina feels her stomach drop, an uncomfortable knot forming in the pit of it. She presses her lips together, tightens her jaw.
Hook's lips upturn then, eyes following the action, and he looks so incredibly pleased with himself that the knot inside of her loosens a bit with the growing anger seemingly intent on superseding her entire body.
"What Emma and I have wasn't the result of some pixie dust," he spits the words and Regina's cheek twitches. "We didn't need magic do find each other, to love each other. We did that all on our own." He tosses his hook lazily in Robin's direction and Regina's eyes flicker to his. He looks as angry as she feels.
She feels him lean in then, feels his hot, rum-soaked breath break across her cheek, the shell of her ear. It's quiet enough that she knows it's meant only for her to hear.
"Face it, Regina. You had your chance and you missed it for someone who went crawling back to his wife the second she came back. A woman you and your sister both got a hand in murdering, yeah?"
She veers back at that, anger leaving her body in a split second, ice filling up the holes left behind. She gives him a shove hard enough that he stumbles backwards and he only chuckles roughly, a glint in his eyes that makes Regina feel sick.
Robin's up and off the barstool he'd been sitting on, face drawn up and clenched, looking like he's intent on grabbing Hook. Snow rushes forward, eyes red-rimmed but ever concerned, and David - who'd been the closest to her and Hook - is looking at her with shock.
Regina gives one last frantic look to Robin, who's just caught her gaze and is furrowing his brow now, then one last look to David, who tilts his head, before she raises up her hands and disappears in a flourish of purple.