"And who you will always be." The younger woman's words slammed into Regina's very soul, the fury in the blonde's eyes only barely masking the tumult of her shattered heart. The former Queen watched her entire world crumble before her very eyes as her Savior seethed, tainted memories of their frenzied, carnally erotic reunion pounding relentlessly through them both. Regina was drowning in the air she was trying to breathe, unable to fathom what it was the outraged young woman thought she saw, unable and unwilling to imagine returning to a life in which Emma Swan and Henry had no faith in her, didn't protect her. Didn't invite her. Didn't love her.
The heartshattered women locked eyes, Emma already regretting her complete loss of control in yelling at the woman she's spent so much time protecting lately. But watching her squeeze Archie's life out of him... it was the ultimate betrayal of their son, of Emma's own trust, of this... whatever it was that had grown like a terrified, passionate, unrepentant and irrepressible organism between Evil Queen and Savior.
"You don't want to stay for a piece?" ... "Em, I'm... I'm sorry."
The older woman was reminded widely of apologizing to someone else, so many years and lifetimes ago.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you."
"I shouldn't have snapped at you."
Daniel and Emma. Her True Love (s?).
Emma had forgiven her the night before. Maybe - just maybe - she would show faith in the nearly broken woman yet again. She took a deep breath of air that tasted like poison, willing herself to look into fiery green eyes, raw yet again with the wild pain of abandonment, of betrayal. The Evil Queen drew a deep breath into trembling lungs.
"Ms. Swan." She said it softly, but watched another layer of furious protection construct itself behind her secret lover's eyes. She tried again.
"Emma," softly, so that Snow and Charming had to lean closer to hear. She never wanted them to see her desperate like this, but her son was worth it to her. So is their daughter, she forced herself to admit to herself. A flicker of hope show through the younger woman's eyes when Regina used her first name. Somewhat steadied by that, Regina pressed on.
"Please. I'm sorry. I - I lost my temper. I don't want to lose Henry. You - you know how that feels. Please forgive me. I - I don't know how you saw what you saw, but please, give me the chance to show you what I remember of last night."
There was a long pause during which Emma's eyes softened with the buoyancy of hope, of faith. If love. Her voice, however, remained cold, skeptical, hardened.
"How?"
Regina wasn't offended by the tone or by the question: she knew too much about protecting her heart from those most likely to melt it with the fires of their own passions.
"Magic."
The two set off for Gold's office alone. Regina had refused - almost petulantly, Emma noted with wounded affection, which was slowly, hopefully, skeptically creeping back into her, her willingness to believe in the brunette's innocence growing with each step they took - to allow Snow and Charming to witness her memories. Surely, she had had enough of her dignity stripped from her at their hands to last several lifetimes, she had argued.
Emma had reddened at her choice of words, remembering that merely a couple dozen hours ago, Regina had stripped for her in the throes of inflamed passion, charged with the vigor from their prolonged separation and the changes they had both made in their time apart: Regina, struggling to redeem herself, to let love in; Emma, being humbled by her experiences in the Enchanted Forest and learning so much more about Regina's past and pains, through Cora; both, being forced to deal with how profoundly their separation impacted them. Emma tried not to think about all that right then, nor about the fact that the two women had absently fallen into perfect step with each other.
As the bell on Gold's door jangled, Regina's fears returned fully, having been temporarily soothed by the blonde's silent companionship on their way to the shop.
"Gold," Emma called into the back room moments before the man emerged, polishing a necklace with an old cloth.
"Ah, Ms. Swan. You've apprehended the murderer, I see. If you're coming to me about how best to keep her at bay, I'm afraid - "
"We have to prove her guilty first." Gold blinked as Regina suppressed a smirk, silently reveling in Emma's renewed defense of her.
"Ms. Swan, merely an hour ago, you watched - "
"I know," Emma cut in. "And now I want to watch Regina's side of the story. So give me that dream catcher thing so we can get this over with."
"And my incentive for doing so is - "
"You don't want our son to be devastated if there's no real reason to be, do you? Surely you owe him one after risking his life with that bullshit stunt you pulled with the True Love potion, Gold."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly, but he had no choice intention of arguing with the blonde; he had deep affection for Henry, given his intimate connection with Bae. He silently handed Emma the dream catcher, glaring at Regina as he did so.
Regina spoke for the first time since she had thanked Emma when they set off for the shop:
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet, Regina: if you're lying to me, I swear - "
"I'm not."
"My memories are for the Sheriff's eyes only, Gold."
"Oh, dearie, but you're forgetting. This is the second chance - the second test, if you will - that I'm giving you to prove that you can change. I don't often give second chances. You're in no position to set conditions."
Emma stepped into the man's space. "She may not be, but I am. Let me see her memories alone, Gold."
"You see them with me here or you don't see them at all, Ms. Swan. My word is final and the choice is yours."
Emma found that magic flowed much easier from the inner fibers of her being to the tips of her fingers when she was in Regina's presence. The older woman was looking on, clearly torn between mortified humiliation and an almost adoring, sexual fascination and excitement at the prospect of watching her down-low lover creating magic.
The inexperienced woman stared deeply into the dream catches, eyes pouring her soul into it, willing Regina's night after she left the welcome-home party to come into view. Emma squinted as she watched and felt the tears stinging Regina's eyes as she approached the door to her empty house, dropping the keys because her hands were trembling so hard. The memory faltered a little as Emma gently cast the dream catcher over Regina's body once more, eliciting more memories, hearing her heels click into her deserted foyer, saw her lover's shaking hands skip the cider and go straight for the vodka, stumbling up to Henry's empty room, breaking her own rules as she kicked her heels off on the stairs, tripping on the top step as grief and alcohol - she had already downed half a large glass of vodka - ravaged her normally graceful body's ability to function.
Emma blinked away her own tears and tried to steady her own shaking hands as she watched Regina stumble into Henry's room, struggling not to collapse on the threshold, sobbing throatily as she inhaled his scent and tasted his childhood. She crumpled like used paper onto his bed and grabbed futilely at his pillow, sobs wracking the entire bed and shaking the very foundations of her soul. Emma had no idea how the entire town had not felt her convulsions.
Emma watched the hours go by in minutes, and she knew from some magical sort of intuition that the time of Archie's murder was being played before her eyes. The brunette had stumbled her way into her own bedroom. Mascara covered Regina's face as she shakily settled onto her bed, the bitterness of being empty and alone coursing through her veins, as essential to her being as blood.
Emma felt the Regina of the present time, standing in Gold's shop, shift with extreme discomfort as the Regina of last night roughly unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, thrusting a single, trembling hand into the warm space between her legs, fingers smashing circles onto her lonely, comfort-needing clit. Her breath became more ragged, and a heady moan reached the witnesses' ears: "Emma."
The woman in question abruptly broke the magical link between herself and the dream catcher, her face flushed and her heart about to burst out of her chest in relief, arousal, and an intense feeling of pride, both in Regina that she had kept her word, and in herself, that the brunette had masturbated to thinking about her. The heartbreak of watching Regina so desperate and alone was something Emma forced to the side, determined to never let her feel that way again.
"Well, that was certainly... ah... entertaining," Gold piped up, a wicked smile set on his face. "Though I must say, I'm surprised you didn't wish to see more, Sheriff."
"Not a word about this, Gold, beyond declaring the fact that we know she's innocent, or I swear I will make your life a living hell." Emma knew how mortified Regina must be, and realized with a jolt why she had tried to insist that Gold not be present while the Savior perused her memories. Emma knew what an enormous step this was for Regina, knew that she would normally never willingly expose herself in the throes of such self-despair and self-intimacy, to anyone, least of all Gold - who would take great pleasure in not only mocking her mercilessly, but would likely exploit this as a weakness when it was convenient for him to do so - or to Emma, to whom the memories amounted to an admission of love, or at the very least, intense desire.
Gold must have felt the heat of ferocity behind Emma's demand, for her uncharacteristically backed down and changed the subject. Regina, still tense and lipstick red in the face, relaxed slightly behind Emma.
"Regardless of Regina's memories of the night, we still have the other set of memories to explain. What do you imagine explains what Mr. Hopper's dog witnessed? Memories don't like, Ms. Swan."
"Which means Regina's don't, either, Gold." This time, Regina didn't bother to hide her smile at Emma's defense of her.
Rumpelstiltskin persisted. "And so the question remains - "
"Cora." Emma's voice was low, tense. Frightened.
"What?" Dually shocked voices rang in Emma's ears.
"She posed as Lancelot and fooled everyone; Mary Margaret knew Lancelot well, and Cora still tricked her. No offense to Pongo, but it doesn't seem too much of a stretch to think that Cora could make herself look like Regina and fool him, too."
A long, tense silence.
"But then... she's here. In Storybrooke." Regina looked for all the world like a woman about to break with fear and grief, held together by an elegant layer of makeup, the saline from her tears, and the soft, tender touch of Emma's Swan's hand just above her elbow.
"Regina," Emma said softly as Gold nervously puttered about, gathering and mixing fluids and powders that Emma didn't recognize or particularly care about at the moment.
"You need to let me protect you, Regina. Please."
Regina scoffed, pulling her arm away from Emma's, struggling desperately to settle her face into the devil-may-care expression she had honed over the long, lonely years. Emma's heart pounded wildly and her heart shattered into impossibly tiny shards, watching such exquisite pain in battle to the death on the face, in the eyes, of such an exquisitely passionate woman.
Regina recoiled from Emma's touch. "Protect me? Ms. Swan, the magic you have is nothing against my mother, and forgive me for saying so, but it was mere good fortune that you and Snow escaped with your lives to begin with!"
"There's one thing more powerful than magic, Regina." Emma's voice was breathless and steadily low, so much so that Regina swore she had heard her wrong. Surely the younger woman wasn't saying... No. Impossible. But that look in her eyes...
"I know I can protect you if you let me." Regina searched the younger woman's green orbs for an ulterior motive as Gold none-too-subtly fought a knowing smirk.
"How?" Regina asked, her voice prickly with anguish and maybe - just maybe - a little bit of hope.
"Cora's hiding. She obviously thinks we don't know she's here. She wants you broken, Regina." She squinted sympathetically as she spoke, reaching her hand out again to touch the older woman's arm. Regina found that she couldn't shrug the touch off if she wanted to. She was numbly shocked to find that she didn't want to.
"So we fight her in two ways," Emma continued. "One, I'm not gonna let you break. Two, we make her think you have. She'll think she's winning, but we'll have the advantage: we can plan against her and she'll have no idea. We can do this, Regina."
Regina breathed slowly, heavily, fighting to keep oxygen in her brain, which was hazily spinning like a chunk of ice in the depths of a nebula, much like the one she was absorbed by in the blonde's eyes.
"And... and your parents, the town... you may believe me, Ms. Swan, but unless you plan to stage my very public humiliation by allowing... allowing everyone to see what you've seen... I have a hard time accepting that anyone else will believe me."
"But they'll believe me, and I'll protect you against anyone that doesn't. But remember, Regina: Cora has to think she's won. So the fewer who knew the truth, the better. I'll make my parents believe the truth. I know Henry will. And when all this is over, I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you again."
Emma exhaled heavily, eyes flitting anywhere but Regina's face. She was used to playing her cards much closer to her chest, but there was something in the wildness, the broken vulnerability, in the eyes of her son's other mother - no matter what she'd yelled in the midst of her own heartbreak, Regina would always be that, and so much more - that made her want to dissolve her own walls and embrace the older woman's damage with her own.
Regina, entranced by this woman who was so willing - even eager - to stick by her when no one else wanted to or would, took an almost shy step forward, full lips parting slightly, warm breath caressing Emma's cheeks. The younger woman smiled softly at her. "Okay?" she whispered. Regina nodded silently, allowing Emma to slip tentative hands around her waist.
Gold cleared his throat. Emma jumped then shifted so that she could face Gold while still holding the haunted, hunted brunette.
"Go explain things to your boy and bring him to me directly." He dangled a crystalline vial, half full of sparkling pink liquid, up between two fingers. "He needs to drink this so that Cora's magic shan't hurt him: a similar concoction to that which protected Snow White from you, dearie."
The women nodded their appreciation as Regina turned her face to Emma, an almost playful smile dancing in her deep chocolate eyes. "We'll need to magic ourselves there and back so that Cora won't be aware of our interaction with Henry. Would you like to transport us there, Ms. Swan?" She said this flirtatiously. "You do have magic, after all."
Emma blinked rapidly, mouth unraveling down to her toes. "Oh, I - I don't know how to - I can't - "
"Oh, but you can, Ms. Swan," Gold interjected. "I think you'll find yourself capable of much more than you know. Let Ms. Mills guide you. It seems your connection is - " he paused to give a classically Rumpelstiltskin giggle - "powerful."
Regina rolled her eyes at him, but raised her eyebrow at Emma questioningly. Hopefully.
"What if I screw it up, poof us right to wherever Cora's hiding?"
Despite - and perhaps because of - the severity of the situation, Regina found Emma's flash on insecurity endearing and frankly adorable. She smiled gently.
"I'll be with you to guide you, should you need it." She captured Emma's eyes and lowered her voice sensually, oozing with passionate meaning. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you."
Rumpelstiltskin stared at the women silently over the brims of his various vials and jars, taking in the softness of Regina's voice as she talked Emma through the first steps of using magic. He marveled at the evident changes in the woman, in her renewed vulnerability, in the tenderness in her eyes as her gaze lingered on the blonde always for several moments too long. For her part, Ms. Swan seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this new - or should he say, old - Regina. Perhaps Henry's childish hopes had been on target after all: Cora or no, it seemed the Savior would refuse to be the Evil Queen's happy ending, gallantly insisting, instead, on being her beginning of joy.