She sits in her corner
Singing herself to sleep
Wrapped in all of the promises
That no one seems to keep
She no longer cries to herself
No tears left to wash away
Just diaries of empty pages
Feelings gone astray
But she will sing

Til everything burns
While everyone screams
Burning their lies
Burning my dreams
All of this hate
And all of this pain
I'll burn it all down
As my anger reigns
Til everything burns

The former mayor sat in her Mercedes-Benz, arms folded over the steering wheel and her chin resting on them as tears streamed down her cheeks. The flicker of flames reflected in her eyes as she stared blankly ahead, not even sure what to do next—where to go. The fire department wouldn't reach her beloved mansion in time, of that she was certain. Oh, sure, the station was fairly close—everything was in Storybrooke—but with the curse broken and everyone upset with her, there wasn't a soul in the town who wouldn't enjoy the suffering and pain caused by the loss of her only remaining physical possessions.

Regina cleared her throat and wiped away the tears as a flash of headlights in the rearview mirror caught her eye. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was to deal with people and their questions, and the smug looks on their faces as they realized the world had exacted some sort of revenge on their behalf. So she quickly put the car into gear and sped away, not even sure where she was going until she found she had parked the car in front of City Hall. She wasn't privy to the luxury of the mayor's office anymore—no, it had been habit rather than any actual logical offering that had drawn her to this building. Sighing, she stepped out of the car and opened the door to the back seat, crawling in and curling up AFTER locking all the doors. She couldn't take any chances with her life now. That, and pride, had been what had stopped her from going to Granny's and just renting a room instead of placing herself in this cramped predicament.

In the morning she would face her problems head on, resume the regal status she felt she was truly due. But for now, Regina allowed herself one night of grief, mourning all she had lost: her title, her son, her control, and now the physical place and physical memories, essentially erasing the twenty eight years prior when she had possessed each of those things. In the morning, she wouldn't give a fuck. But for now, just for tonight, she allowed what was left of her shattered heart to splinter even further, and permitted herself to feel the full force of the pain she had endured, both since the curse was broken and before.

…

Emma Swan was the first on the scene and watched, horrified, as flames licked up the sides of the mayoral mansion. She had called in the incident, of course, but had trouble convincing the reluctant fire department to respond when they had been told which house was the victim. Finally threatening to throw someone in jail if she didn't see that damn red fire truck within the next two minutes, she heard the scream of the siren as the vehicle sped toward the house. Emma turned back toward her car. She would supervise from there, then fence off the perimeter and return home. The fire would take most of the night to put out anyway, and she couldn't conduct a proper investigation until the morning.

Just then, as one of the windows burst out from the pressure of the flames, a horrible thought occurred to Emma. Sure, Regina had been missing since the sheriff and her family had accused her of Archie's murder, but what if she happened to be inside the house now—at this moment?

Emma threw open her car door, leaving it ajar as she ran without further thought straight into the thick, billowing clouds of dark smoke that poured out when she threw open the front door.