There's no time for second-guessing this jump, but Emma stands on the precipice of the portal and drops back anyway. Regina isn't listening to her, even as she shouts out in desperation, "He's not even real!"
But the arrows that zip over her head are, and Emma has just enough presence of mind to grab Regina by the elbow and haul her away from the danger.
As fast as her reflexes are, Robin's aim is better and compensates for their movement.
"Robin!" Regina cries out, but the thief pays no mind to her. He's intent on robbing them, and he's a different man in this land; he shoots first and doesn't ask questions.
Regina's staring at him in that sticky, sweet way that proves she's a liability to herself. She's too distracted, and the neon-green portal suddenly dilates and contracts like an otherworldly demon-eye. Then the portal shuts, and the nearby lake ripples reactively, sending off tiny waves that make adrenaline rush through Emma's veins.
At the same time, Robin lets loose another arrow, and its jagged metal head embeds in Regina's shoulder.
Regina's too stunned to do more than stare down at herself and the blood that seeps through her wool coat. With the portal gone, and Regina literally in a love-struck state, Emma resorts to instinctive action. She flies across the distance between herself and Robin and rams her fist into his face. His quiver falls from his back as she smashes his nose in, not even aware of how her magic has wrapped around her like a shield.
It would be easy to blast him with a pure surge of energy, but the physicality of this attack is what her impulsive need for revenge demands.
It's not like her to lash out this way, not anymore, but she feels completely unrestrained and out of control – so very unlike the meek woman she had become in this wish land. She could knock his head off, but she's satisfied with shoving him to the ground instead.
He looks so baffled by her sudden aggression and power, and decides he'd better ask questions now. "Who are you?" he huffs.
But Emma takes a page from his book and doesn't respond to him. She turns to Regina, who has just noticed that the portal has vanished from sight.
"It's gone!" Emma confirms, squinting as the dimming sun reflects off the lake. "We're stranded here."
There's a shadow on the horizon, which she mistakes for a flock of crows at first. If not for the familiar sizzle of magic in the air, she would simply guess a storm is coming and the birds are on the move. But there's a familiarity to this pulse of the atmosphere, though she can't pinpoint why.
Regina clutches at the arrow in her shoulder and wrenches it out in one swift motion. "This is my fault," she grunts, stripping off her coat to get better access to the wound underneath.
Robin is still sitting flat on his ass, not far away.
"Maybe it's not," Emma confesses, stealing a quick glance at Robin. "This is my wish world, isn't it? That might mean this entire place is constructed exactly how I want it to be. It's possible that nothing here is an accident, or a coincidence."
She wonders why Robin has stopped them from leaving. Of all people, she's not quite sure why he's the obstacle – but he represents a lot of Emma's conflicting desires. On the one hand, Emma wants Regina to be happy—and on the other, she has mixed emotions about Robin providing that happiness in any world. He's never been the man that Regina needs, nor has he ever put Regina first.
Using a flash of the magic that still holds Henry frozen in time, Emma also freezes Robin.
"So, what part of you secretly wanted to see me get shot by my soulmate?" Regina asks moodily, and then tends to her injury with the lightest form of magic.
"I didn't want him to shoot you," Emma snaps out, though her eyes soften as she tries to make sense of this scenario. "Not consciously at least. It's just—sometimes, I don't think you realize how much he hurt you—"
"I don't think you're in any position to comment, given that the man in your life recently wanted to damn you and your entire family to hell," Regina retorts. It gets under Emma's skin that she's still looking at Robin longingly.
This argument isn't one she wants to have, but Emma's still not herself in this world—not quite so willing to hold her tongue over matters that have always bothered her.
"Maybe I'm not happy, either," Emma spits, her eyes darting around the landscape in search of a face she has no recollection of encountering here. "I mean, do you see Hook anywhere? There's obviously a part of me that isn't ready to commit to him."
"Then why are you living with him?" Regina demands, as if Emma's living arrangements somehow offend her sensibilities.
"It's—convenient," Emma huffs, as she struggles to come up with a single reason. "Sometimes he makes quesadillas."
It's the worst excuse possible, if Regina's face is any indication of how the woman feels about her logic. "And he lets me borrow his clothes," Emma adds, thinking of his collection of leather jackets.
"So those awful floral numbers you've been wearing are actually from his 'special' closet?" Regina mockingly intones.
"My mother bought those for me," Emma replies, with a roll of her eyes and a touch of acid in her voice. "She's making up for lost time, or something. But that's beside the point. Hook just has a lot of qualities I appreciate in a friend. You said a while ago that the two of you are similar, and you're kind of my best friend. He's a complicated person, and I feel like I need to look out for him. He's had a rough past, and I keep him grounded-"
Regina scrutinizes her, and Emma hopes that for once, the woman will see right through her explanation to the sentiments that she's too afraid to express.
"So, you're dating Hook because he's tragically flawed like me?" Regina concludes, completely missing the mark, yet again. "That's idiotic. You have a savior complex, and I suggest you see Archie for help with that, along with all of these unexpressed desires you've been holding onto—"
Emma must be wearing her kicked-puppy face because Regina softens, releasing from the tense posture she's been maintaining.
"We won't be seeing anyone ever again if we don't figure out how to leave this place," Emma mutters, and decides to change her fur cape and dress for clothing that is more practical – jeans, a long sleeve shirt and her leather jacket.
The sky turns grey overhead, and the wind sweeps in dark rain clouds. "We can't go back to your castle," Emma states. "Everyone will think to look for us there. Where else can we go?"
Regina seems reluctant to abandon Robin, but she steps in close to Emma and a purple gust of magic whisks them away.
Emma lands in a pile of hay, in a stall where horses must have once been kept. There are no animals here now, nor even traces of their scent—but heavy saddles still hang on the walls.
Rain patters against the roof, and Emma thinks that they must have gone south. She doesn't need to ask exactly where they are, because she recognizes the stable from Henry's storybook and from Regina's most private memories.
"Going for a roll in the hay with you might have been on my secret wish list," Emma mumbles under her breath, and then climbs out of the hay pile.
Regina's standing with her arms crossed in the doorway, and barely paying attention to her at all.
"If we stay in this world, I'm going to be hunted down for murdering your parents," Regina breathes, flexing her fingers agitatedly. "Perhaps you need to come to terms with whatever it is you aren't facing in our world, and then a way out will present itself to us. Maybe a part of you is frightened because of the prophecy of your death—"
"That's not it," Emma stubbornly insists, although she'd rather die than admit the real reason they're still hanging out here. "I'm not afraid to give up my life. I just don't want Henry to mourn my loss, like he does with his Dad."
"Then what is the problem, Emma?" Regina persistently asks, staring at her in that searching and perceptive way.
"I don't know," she lies automatically, and lets her eyes wander down to Regina's bottom lip. "It could be you and this whole evil queen thing. You know, it's pretty weird that she's hooking up with Henry's grandfather."
"That—that is all about power," Regina defensively argues, gesturing wildly as she makes her case. "She seduced the Dark one because it was the last card she had to play. The fact of the matter is that she could have chemistry with anyone, but who else would be her ally? However, I still don't see why any of that would bother you."
"It's not that specifically," Emma mutters, subtly licking her mouth. Truth be told, she hates that Regina's other half is acting so lasciviously, but that's not the actual issue. "It's just that we encouraged you to rip out a part of yourself, and at the bottom of it, that's really why we're here. I think I feel guilty, because there are parts of me, too, that aren't perfect. Parts of me that I hide away, parts of me that I hate. Of course it would be nice to get rid of some of the pain that comes from that, but I'd also be giving up a piece of who I am that is so vital. The evil queen is you, Regina, and I care about her, too. Even though she's a little unhinged, I still sympathize with her. I know you're convinced that you're going to continue to be miserable if you hang onto her. But we shouldn't have given up on her."
Regina clutches at her elbows, and hugs her ribs. Her eyes shine with emotion, but she's too choked up to speak.
"Hey, she might be here," Emma says, abruptly experiencing an epiphany. "I mean, my parents banished her—but maybe we can still find her, and make you whole again." In the matter of a few minutes, she's convinced herself this is the answer, but underneath it all, she knows there's so much more to it than that.
"We don't have any idea how to reunite me with her," Regina complains, although she's not outright dismissing the plan. "Besides, the evil queen here is different. She's not the twisted half that I left in Storybrooke."
"We'll figure it out," Emma promises, and gently pats Regina's arm, even if it feels like such an inadequate way to comfort the other woman. "Either way, I think we should look for the queen. She might have some ideas on how to get back to our world. But for now, we need to re-gain our strength. Maybe we should just stay here over night—"
With her powers, Emma summons two thick bedrolls and heavy furs to keep them warm after nightfall. It's not even two o'clock yet, but it's pouring rain outside and they require time to figure out what they're doing. "My parents in this world told me the story of the evil queen many times, and how they vanquished her," she explains. "The queen must be somewhere in the northlands, from the way they described it. We'll need a good map, and a means of traveling inconspicuously. Even though I'm still the princess, I'm not sure I could convince all of my parents' loyal subjects that you aren't the enemy. We should probably use disguises."
"Disguises expend a lot of magical energy, which we may need if we get into a fight," Regina points out, and folds her legs underneath her as she sits on one of the bedrolls. She's stressed and giving into her usual anxious habits, like raking her fingers through her hair.
"I don't mean magical disguises," Emma says, frowning as she flops back onto her own bedroll. "We can just pretend to be other people. I could dress up as a foreign prince or something, and you could be my consort. I've worn enough fairytale princess gowns to last me a whole extra lifetime."
"What makes you think I want to masquerade as your consort?" Regina sniffs with a cranky scrunch of her nose. "Why don't you masquerade as mine?"
"Even though you're looking pretty dashing in your coat, I'll give you two good reasons," Emma boldly replies, but then becomes very shy as she raises her eyebrows and glances down at Regina's chest. "If nothing else, they'll make for a good distraction if we run into any more bandits."
Regina catches her meaning, and shoots her a scathing look. "Fine," she grates out. "It wouldn't be the first time my cleavage has saved the day."
Emma concentrates with her magic, and transforms their attire. She picks a soft leather suit with chainmail she can put on when they leave.
For Regina, Emma's selection seems almost to decide itself—and for an instant, she can only gape in surprise at the low-cut gown that materializes on the other woman.
"This dress looks like a red carpet scandal at the Grammy's," Regina snorts, as she unsuccessfully attempts to yank it up further. "If the neckline was any lower, you'd be staring at my navel."
Emma certainly has no complaints—she's still gazing on in slack-jawed awe. "I think it works for the role you're playing," she quietly insists, even though she totally has ulterior motives.
"Am I supposed to be your consort, or your concubine?" Regina asks, tugging a fur around her bare shoulders.
Emma blushes a deep shade of guilty red, but before she can make any revisions to the outfit, they hear a loud clamor of voices outside.
She gets to her feet and peeks out through the slats in the stable door. It's a pack of wolves like Ruby, who shift in and out of their forms at will.
"I can smell her!" comes a boisterous, familiar voice, and then Granny appears, armed with a crossbow.
"Time to go. One arrow through the shoulder is enough for today," Emma declares, and it's her turn to envelop Regina in radiant, white magic that carries them across the forest to the furthest point north that she's capable of reaching.
She's out of breath when they tumble out of the air, and she falls on top of Regina. Her face is practically between Regina's breasts, and the proximity flusters her so much that she forgets how to move.
"These aren't airbags," Regina saucily quips. "Get off."
Emma scrambles backward, unsure of whether to apologize or explain herself. "Sorry, I'm not the best at that. I'm still working out the kinks," she huffs, shame-faced.
"What did you say about kinks?" Regina teases, not for a moment giving up the chance to make a dig at her. "Something about your mommy issues?"
Emma can only roll her eyes skyward, let the gibe go, and get back on her feet. "Maybe there's a cave around here where we can hide until the storm passes," she suggests, as she helps Regina up.
"It might be better to travel through the night, especially since it seems all of your friends are already out looking for us," Regina sighs. She brushes the dirt off of herself and spins around to get her bearings in this part of the forest.
They walk for a while in silence, until the sun begins to fade and it becomes harder to see without Regina lighting up a fireball in her palm.
"It looks like there's an inn off the road over there," Emma notes, making the choice to venture in that direction. "I hardly slept last night, and a warm bed sounds a hell of a lot better than the cold, wet ground."
It's a risk to stop in this area, but Regina appears to agree with her. "You go in first, speak to the owner and request a room," Regina instructs. "Then you can come get me, and we'll go right up to bed."
"Always pegged you for the type to want dinner first," Emma smartly remarks, with a tiny smirk. "You've seen me in my underwear in the past, but at least you gave me an apple."
"Actually, it was a whole basket of apples," Regina muses, not at all put off by this verbal game they're playing to go along with their new personas. "Now, go on ahead and don't engage with anyone. No one is going to question you rushing me off to the bedroom when I'm wearing this. Just make sure to use your most manly stride—"
"Mock me all you want," Emma grumbles, pulling herself up to her full height. "But don't question my ability to perform."
"Yes, well, don't prematurely congratulate yourself on that," Regina warns, sucking in a cheek and simultaneously quirking an eyebrow. "Although it does truly put you into character."
Emma stalks off to the door of the inn, and stumbles inside a bit clumsily. There's a burly man seated behind the bar, and just a few customers at the tables in the main room.
"I need a room for the night," Emma casually states, passing a bag of coins across the counter to the thick-armed man. He narrows his eyes at her, takes the money and says nothing as he gives her a key.
"Thanks," Emma mutters, and then saunters outside to find Regina. "Let's go." She places a hand on the small of Regina's back, and together they step inside. They get about halfway to the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms, when Emma spots one of the dwarves.
Happy gets up from his place at the window and walks over to Emma. "Excuse me," he squeaks. "Don't I know you?"
Before Emma can utter a word, Regina grabs her face and all but drags her into a kiss. Emma's eyes widen as she feels Regina's tongue in her mouth, and the intensity and heat of it all is both incredibly confusing and intoxicating.
Of all the times she imagined this happening, she never pictured it unfolding quite like this.
Happy turns pink with embarrassment and flees before Emma can say anything. Then Regina grips her firmly by the hand and guides her upstairs to their bedroom.
"Looks like I just turned Happy into Bashful," Regina growls, as she takes in the sight of the large bed at the center of the room. "And now you have yet another reason to seek out your therapist when you get home."
"After that kiss, I need church—not therapy," Emma whispers, more to herself than Regina. She's still reeling from what just took place, and she's baffled by how Regina seems to perceive it – as if it's not something Emma's been craving for years.
It makes Emma feel worse, even after such a high. "I guess I'm sleeping on the floor," she concludes, glancing over at the bed.
"I don't normally share, but for you, I'm willing to make an exception," Regina softly insists, and that is how they end up in bed together.
It's like Emma's wish world is determined to grant her everything she's always been too afraid to admit she's wanted. But she's too stiff and uncomfortable in bed next to Regina, mostly because she keeps thinking she's going to accidentally roll over and do something stupid.
The candle on the bedside table is still lit, and she watches the flame while Regina shifts around.
Emma considers that maybe she's been wrong about this whole vibe she's always gotten from Regina. After all, they shared an impassioned kiss, and it didn't seem to mean much to the other woman.
"You're a good kisser," Emma reflects aloud.
She's not sure when she gave herself permission to speak, but she's spoken loud enough that there's no doubting Regina has heard her.
But Regina doesn't react, or acknowledge the suddenly strange energy between them.
"Emma," Regina whispers at last, and it seems like she might divulge a secret. She's leaning over, and gazing longingly down at Emma. At the last second, she withdraws and all of the vulnerability that has been in her eyes begins to dim. "To be quite honest, I think you needed a breath mint."
The casual insult is so insincere, but it somehow lessens the pressure that Emma feels. She swats Regina lightly with a pillow, and finally finds it possible to relax.
"At least we're not camping out like that time in Neverland," Emma concedes. "I promise I won't breathe on you, so long as you promise not to hog all the covers."
"I'll make no such promises," Regina husks, and tucks the pillow that Emma hurled at her behind her head.
But in a way, they have just made a promise to each other—to continue being in denial and avoid broaching the subject that is constantly on Emma's mind.
Emma burrows contentedly into the blankets. She doesn't overthink it—both can't and won't.
It will take more than this to get them to be honest with each other, but she senses it's coming—that it will be the inevitable completion of this long journey she's shared with Regina.
And for perhaps the first time, she believes in the power of her own wishes and hopes.