A/N: I'm back at it! First new story of 2018. I'm excited to say my writing muse has finally returned. I know I said I would update Those Lost Precious Memories (this is still happening, just not today), but this story spoke to me so I had to write it.
To add to the summary, this is a bit of a Season 1 AU. Basically Emma shows up to Storybrooke early and hasn't yet had Henry. The curse is still a thing. Obviously, there will be a SwanQueen ending.
A bit of a warning – I have Emma swearing quite a bit in this chapter, so I apologize if this offends you. It's mostly done to convey the emotions she's feeling.
Last thing… I tried something different with this story. I primarily made use of the present tense in this one. I felt like it worked better with the flow of the story. I haven't done this before, so I hope you'll like it.
Everything Is Not Lost
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Chapter One: Caught.
xxx
She can feel her head whirling as she parks the Volkswagen and thinks over what she is about to do.
You're stupid, Emma. You're an idiot for doing this!
She turns her keys in the ignition, listens to the car shut off, and shoves the keys in one of her coat pockets. She quickly takes her glasses off and places them in the open cup holder. She then rests her head against the top of the steering wheel and tries to even her breathing.
It's just one night… One night and I don't have to sleep in my car… They'll never know…
She balls up her fists as she fights against the painful bout of nausea. She is worrying too much again, and she knows this is what is making it worse. She needs to try to hold it together, knowing too well that if someone spots her tossing her cookies in the middle of the road during the night they'll think she is drunk and she can't afford to be seen. But it is only getting worse and she fears she isn't going to be able to stop it from happening.
She shakes her head as she forces herself to swallow hard against it.
She fucking hates this.
She gives herself a few seconds and then raises her head a little, studying the neighborhood around her. She doesn't see anyone out from the front view of her car, but she knows she can't let her guard down yet because she hasn't done a full 360 scan of her location with her glasses on. (Her vision wasn't terrible without them, but she isn't about to miss something due to her surroundings being just a tad blurry).
She doesn't make the move to turn around, though, the nausea still weighing heavily down on her. She lowers her head again and shuts her eyes tightly against the terrible discomfort in her abdomen. She is paying for earlier, she fucking knows she is. She is back at it again, trying to fight it from coming up, pleading with her insides to just let this pass because, damn it, she needs to get to that house and soon before it's too late.
She pounds a fist against her seat in silent protest. Nonetheless, her body protests against her. She can feel her cheeks getting hot and she is starting to sweat. The dizziness is really hitting her now, and she feels herself shaking. She still tries to fight it off, but she is losing strength with each minute that passes that she doesn't let her body do what it needs to.
Emma moans in frustration.
It's no damn use. Her body is just going to keep punishing her.
She looks behind her and reaches her hand in the backseat, but she can't find anything of use that she can get sick in—or at least, nothing she wants to purge because she already has so little. She turns back to the front, rushes to pull her hair back into a loose ponytail, and pushes the car door open. She glances wildly around her, searching the quiet neighborhood street.
She finds what she is looking for just in the nick of time.
A whimper escapes her lips as her boots hit the concrete and she quickly has to bring her hand to mouth. Although she can barely stand up straight, she forces herself to run anyway. She doesn't have much time before she loses it and she is not about to throw up all over herself. She really needs these clothes to stay clean because she only has a few spare outfits to change into.
She is thankful the damn sewer drain is only a few feet away from the back of her car. The second she reaches the drain she collapses in front of it and immediately throws up.
So much for not making a scene.
She really hopes no one sees her.
Emma sits back and waits. She knows she isn't done yet.
A minute passes and then it's round two. The nausea still isn't relaxing, and she is beginning to become panicky as she realizes she could very well lose her opportunity to get into the house before its owner returns. She's going to need a new plan. She'll have to find a new place, which could be easy enough. Or she could stay at the Bed and Breakfast she saw as she drove through town. But how much would that cost for a night? She'd eat up most of the money she had left…
She is going to end up in her car again. That is what is going to happen. She will have to spend another damn cold October night sleeping in her car…
She lets out a shaky breath and prepares herself for a third go around.
Emma, you need to stay calm. The more worked up you get, the worse it's going to be.
The self-talk does nothing to put herself at ease.
She gets sick again. She chokes up at the end and her eyes begin to well up with tears. She doesn't know whether it's the damn hormones at play or if she is at the brink of breaking down. Neither would surprise her, and she guesses it's a little bit of both, which doesn't make her situation any better. She slowly sits back on the curb and covers her face with her hands as the tears travel down her cheeks.
She doesn't know if this could get any worse.
She is about ready to give up. Drive out of town and start somewhere else.
But where else do I have to go?
It will be hours before she hits another town. The ride there consisted mostly of forest around her and there were very little exits that she remembered. She is fucking lost anyway. She is lucky she even found this place because she honestly drove with no direction. To backtrack now would be impossible. She would never find her way back to the city. Not that she wants to go back there anyway.
She's fucking hiccupping at that point because she's crying so much.
She takes her hands away from her face and wraps her arms around her legs, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them.
I have to stop. I have to!
But she can't. The tears keep flowing out of her eyes like a waterfall and her mind is racing a mile a minute. She thinks about how she got here, how stupid she was to even fall in love with him, how she was managing fine on her own beforehand and how she should have just stayed alone because she was always better off that way. She remembers looking down at that test a few weeks ago, the sinking feeling in her heart at seeing the positive, the display clear as day and reminding her she had made a huge mistake. She remembers the day she told him the news, hoping for at least a "We'll figure this out" but getting the response she feared most. She remembers watching him walk away from her in that alleyway, her clutching the car keys and money he'd given her close to her chest, tears running down her face as the conversation they'd had rang in her ears again and again.
I can't do this, Emma.
Can't do this? Can't do this? You think I can do this on my own? I've got nothing, Neal. Nothing!
You can keep the car.
Fuck the damn car, Neal. I need you!
All he did was give her some of his money and the keys to the Bug.
Take this. You need it more than I do.
She had shoved it back to him.
No! I don't want the money or the car. I want you. I want you to be here with me in this.
She thought for a minute she had him convinced. He was listening, and the last little flicker of hope she had left was still burning inside her.
We can make it work together. We can have a family… Something neither of us have had. Don't you want that?
He had taken her hands in his, and just for a moment, she believed things would work out. That for once in her life, everything would be okay. But after giving them a gentle squeeze, he simply placed the keys and money back in her palms and pushed her hands towards her before letting go.
I'm sorry, Emma.
He tried to turn away after that, but she responded quickly and grabbed his arm tightly.
Don't go. Please.
He had stopped and looked back at her.
Please.
He only frowned before pulling away from her grip and walking away.
Neal! Neal, please!
He just ignored her cries and kept walking.
I loved you. I loved you! And you're just going to leave me alone in this?
Nothing.
He never once looked back at her.
Fucking bastard.
She will never forgive him for leaving her like that. Nor will she ever let herself fall in love again. She will only leave room in her heart for her kid. That is, if she can even carry the child to full term when she is living on the streets.
She worries everyday about this.
She raises her head suddenly.
She's going to get sick again.
"Damn it, kid!" Emma quickly repositions herself so she is leaning over the drain and vomits once more. She is thankful that much doesn't come up this time, and she takes this as a sign that while her stomach is still queasy, she is most likely nearing the end of this episode. When she sits back on the curb, she brings a hand to her forehead and shakes her head. "I'm sorry. It's not even your fault, kid. I'm getting too worked up."
She has already started talking to the baby and given the child a nickname, even though she can't be more than two months long. It might be too early, but there's something comforting there in talking to the baby.
She places both of her hands on her flat tummy. It's somewhat tender, but she isn't showing yet. "We're gonna be okay. I promise, kid. Momma's gonna figure it out."
She really doesn't know where this motherly instinct is coming from. She never had good role model parents growing up in the foster system or great foster family figures in general. Her birth parents had tossed her away, abandoning her on the side of a freeway like she was some piece of trash. She had no siblings that she knew of. She knew nothing of a family dynamic nor true love of any kind. But somehow, she knew how to love this kid.
No matter what happens, she is going to make sure her baby has a good life. And she is going to try her damn hardest to make sure she can bring the child into this world. She isn't going to give up on the kid. She won't do the same to the kid as everyone in her life had done to her.
She wraps her arms around her legs again and brings her knees tight to her chest. She falls back into an old childhood habit of hers and begins to rock slightly. She feels somewhat dumb, but she can't help herself. It's soothing to her, and she can finally feel her body starting to relax at the slow movement.
She closes her eyes.
Breathe, Em. Just breathe. It's almost over.
She concentrates on the sound of her breathing, and just for that moment, she blocks out the outside world from her mind.
It doesn't take much longer for her to recover. She stops rocking, opens her eyes, and lets out a sigh of relief.
It hits her a few seconds later.
God, she feels disgusting now. She needs to wash her mouth out.
She slowly stands up and is grateful when she doesn't feel the dizziness return.
Alright. Time to refocus.
She snaps back into survival mode, scanning her territory as she walks back to her car. Nothing in the neighborhood seems out of the ordinary, and despite the mini breakdown she had minutes ago, it doesn't appear she has gotten anyone's attention from the surrounding houses. She doesn't rule out that someone hadn't seen her from her list completely, though. There was always a possibility someone had witnessed the scene but had decided not to get involved. Or they could have suspected suspicious activity and the police could be on her tail right now. She has to be prepared for anything, but she doesn't let herself get hung up on her last thought. She is not about to reawaken her anxiety and worry herself into nausea again when she just got over it.
She reaches her car door and opens it, grabbing her glasses and placing them back on her face. She takes a quick look around her.
She still sees nothing unnerving to her.
She takes her water bottle from the cup holder and frowns. She will have to stop at a park before leaving town and fill up at a water fountain. It's a little over a quarter full and she needs to keep up the fluids.
She closes the door quietly and walks back to the sewer drain (for the last time this night, she hopes). She takes a small drink of water, swishes it around in her mouth for a minute, and then spits it out into the drain.
That's the best she can do to get rid of the bad taste in her mouth for now.
She goes back to her car and gets back in the front seat. She places her water bottle in the cup holder and thinks for a moment.
She should probably move her car elsewhere, just as a precaution if someone did happen to see her.
She pulls her keys out of her coat pocket, sticks them in the ignition, and starts the car. She checks around her before pulling out and then drives away. She decides to do a quick drive by the house she spotted on Mifflin earlier. She notes nothing has changed since her first pass by it. The lights are still off, and the driveway remains empty. She leaves feeling a little less nervous.
"Okay, Emma," she mumbles to herself as she parks the Bug a few blocks away minutes later. "Here it goes."
She grabs her keys, steps out of the car, and locks it. She drops the keys in one of her coat pockets and makes a mental note of the street she is on so she remembers where to find her car in the morning (or sooner if something doesn't go to plan).
Fairview Lane.
Now on to Mifflin.
She keeps a watchful eye during her trek. She never sees anything unusual as she walks there, nor does she run into anyone outside. She knows it's almost too late now for an evening stroll, and she figures many of the running enthusiasts have been driven indoors because of the decreasing temperatures. Now that her body temperature is more regulated after her so called "morning" sickness episode, she is becoming more aware of the cold.
She blows out a puff of air.
Can't see my breath yet. That's always a good sign.
The last couple of nights in her car have been that bad, though. It is nearing the end of October, and the weather had taken a turn from a warmer than normal fall to an early onset of winter since a week into the month. She has woken up quite a few mornings to frost on the ground. She hopes the snow will stay away until well into November, but she won't be surprised if it comes earlier. (As long as it's not on or before her birthday, she'll be happy. She will have to wait a few more days to see if this happens.)
She predicts this night will be no different than the previous ones if she has to resort to sleeping in her car. She'll be restless, tossing and turning in the backseat as she combats with the cold. She hadn't slept well the last few nights because she was so cold. She had done the best she could with layering. She had worn a long sleeve, sweatshirt, and her winter coat on top and two pairs of lounge pants, thick socks, and warm boots on bottom. Along with that, she had worn her hat, ear muffs, and gloves and bundled up in a blanket. It had seemed like enough, but after laying in the backseat for hours with temps in the low thirties, there was no escaping the chill. There were a few periods during the nighttime when she had to turn on her car just so she could warm up.
She doesn't know how she is going to survive the winter. She has done it before, but being pregnant adds a whole new obstacle to the board.
She pushes this thought out of her head as she steps in front of the mansion.
108 Mifflin Street.
It still looks as quiet as before. No signs of a car either. She wonders if maybe the person (or family) who lives in the house is on vacation. Maybe it's vacant. However, the yard and exterior of the house look too kept up to not have someone living in it, so she assumes that whoever owns the place is just not home at the moment.
She glances around her.
Coast is clear.
She takes a deep breath and then moves forward on the brick pathway.
She can't let herself think too much about what she's doing now. She just has to act and with as much efficiency as possible. Any slip up will end her in her car—or worse.
She sees two flower pots on either side of the front door.
Let's try the easy way first.
When she comes to the entrance, she searches for a spare key. As much as she hates to admit it, this hasn't been her first house break-in. It wasn't too often in her experience to find a spare key hidden outside the house, but there were a few times she had been lucky enough to get inside this way. It also wasn't too often in her past that she had broken into houses. This marks her twelfth break-in since she was a teen, which she thinks is somewhat decent considering it has almost been ten years since her first time. (Her first break-in was at thirteen, and she is now twenty two.) Of course, she isn't exactly proud of this record. And that didn't even take into account other places she had broken into that weren't homes or her miles long list of things she had stolen or other laws she had broken. Hell, her VW was a constant reminder of her extensive criminal history.
Neal had stolen it. And then she had stolen it from him, unaware that he was casually napping in the backseat as she had taken off in it. Thankfully, they had managed to get a clean VIN number for the car during their time together, so it was legitimate now. Despite this, she won't forget the car's origins.
She does what she has to in order to survive on the streets.
She lifts the first flower pot—the poor plant is practically dead now and she finds it funny the homeowner hasn't removed either of the plants from the porch for the season—and looks under it.
Nothing.
She places it back on the ground and bends down to inspect the inside, running a finger along the surface of the soil to feel out any rough spots where the key may have been buried. But to no avail, she can't find a key hidden in the plant.
She tries with the second flower pot, but her search yields the same results.
She next lifts the welcome mat. Unfortunately, the spot under the mat offers nothing but bare concrete.
She has one more place to search before she moves on to Plan B.
She steps up to the front door and begins to trace her fingers along the doorframe. She stands on tip-toes to reach the top of the frame and feels for a key, but she comes up empty-handed.
There could still be a spare key lying around somewhere, but she doesn't have time to waste searching the whole outside perimeter of the house.
Guess I'm picking locks today.
Another thing she's had plenty of experience with and is always prepared for.
She pulls a couple of bobby pins from one of her coat pockets and gets them ready to stick in the lock. She then starts to work with the lock, moving as swiftly as she can.
She's too concentrated on the task, though.
She suddenly hears the click-clack of high heels on the sidewalk outside the hedges surrounding the front of the mansion. She has no time to react. She glances to one side, then the other and knows she's fucked. The yard is too damn exposed and there is no good place to hide.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
How did I not hear her car pull in the driveway?
She eases the bobby pins out of the lock just as the woman rounds the corner. She swallows hard when she hears the woman's footsteps come to a halt.
She knew this could have happened. Yet she hadn't scoped out the yard enough for a place to take cover in case it came to this. She was too focused on getting in the house and assumed she would do it with little to no problems.
So much for being prepared.
Even though she knows she is caught, she can't stop herself from jumping a bit in surprise as the woman's angry voice fills the air.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Emma drops the bobby pins and spins around, finding herself staring into the face of the woman who obviously lived at the mansion. She holds a briefcase in one hand while the other hand rests on her hip in a disgruntled stance. Emma resists raising her hands in the air and instead mumbles an apology of sorts.
"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
The brunette snorts disbelievingly. "You didn't mean to break into my home?"
Mentally, she kicks herself. That was a dumb response, Em. Of course you meant to break into her house. You wouldn't be standing here like an idiot if you didn't mean to.
She lets out a breath and wipes her now sweaty palms on the sides of her pants. She knows she needs to say something more, and she opens her mouth to do this, as if the very action will force the words out. But her mouth is dry, and she is stuck. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her stomach starts to do somersaults in her panicked state. She wraps her arms around her waist, hoping the slight pressure against her abdomen will keep any nausea at bay.
Do not get sick, Emma. Do not get sick here.
The brunette walks closer to her. "Do you care to explain yourself? Or shall I call the police instead?"
Emma's eyes widen, and she shakes her head immediately at the threat of the police. She can't have the police after her. She can't. She is not having this baby in jail.
"Well I suggest you start talking then."
She fumbles with her words. "I just… I…" She looks down at the ground, completely flustered.
"You just, what? I know you must have some reason for being stupid enough to break into the mayor's house."
What? The mayor's house? Of all the damn houses she could have targeted, she targets the mayor's house. Of fucking course she would. She has that kind of luck.
That explains why her house is the biggest on the block.
Emma dares to look up. She is unable to stop herself from cursing aloud. "Shit. You're the mayor?"
The mayor smirks at her response. "You must not be from around here. I'm Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke. Fancy meeting you like this."
She smiles uneasily before shifting her gaze back to the ground.
So that house break-in from when she was thirteen? That was the only time she had been caught. And she probably would have gotten away with it had the other girl's foster parents not been looking for their daughter.
She doesn't know how she is going to recover from this. She wants to run, and she thinks she can do it, judging by this woman's outfit. There is no way she will be able to chase after her in those heels and dressy skirt suit she is wearing. She could still call the police, but Emma isn't far from her car and could be well on her way out of town before they could catch her. Plus, this woman didn't even know the model or license plate number of her car. The police will only be able to go off Regina's description of her, which will be harder to identify through the shield of her Bug…
She's about ready to take a step.
Regina isn't even expecting it.
But as she leans slightly forward on her toes, her rational side stops her.
It'll make it worse. She'll get caught no doubt, and getting caught by the cops will be worse than getting caught by the mayor. She may be able to sway the mayor to let her go, but the police will definitely throw her in jail no matter what her story is.
But Regina is growing impatient. She wants an answer from her, and she isn't providing it fast enough for her. She sees her go for her briefcase, and she assumes she is going to pull out a cell phone to call the cops. Freaking out, she steps closer to her and puts her hands out. "Wait, wait! Stop! Please."
The brunette looks up. She hasn't even opened the briefcase yet.
The words come now. She gets emotional and her eyes start to water as she fears what could happen to her and her kid after her foolish act. "I'm sorry, okay? I just… I need help, okay? I'm two months pregnant, I've got no place to stay, I barely have any money in my pocket, and I just got desperate, alright? I just wanted one night where I could sleep somewhere warm and I saw your house and thought I could get away with it without you even knowing I was there." She shakes her head and has to look away.
I should have just stayed at the B&B. One night wouldn't have hurt. I'd still have some money left, and I'd find a way to make ends meet. It'll be hard, but I always make it work somehow.
This is, if her ass isn't sitting in a jail cell tonight.
Her mind tells her she should go. Apologize once more and promise she will never bother her or the town again if she just doesn't get the cops involved. But she is suddenly feeling weak and she can't get herself going so she just lowers herself on to the small porch and sits down on the cold concrete.
She's seconds away from breaking down again.
Damn it this night couldn't get any worse.
Regina has yet to move. She doesn't know whether to take this as a good or bad sign. Whichever it was, it seems she has been stunned into a silence by her confession. Or she is processing the information she has given her and deciding what to do next.
"I'm sorry," Emma mumbles as she squints up at her through tear-filled eyes.
The brunette shakes her head and then walks to her side, sitting down next to her. She crosses her legs and then places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, dear. I'm not going to call the police."
Emma glances at Regina's hand on her shoulder and then looks warily at her. The sudden change in tone surprises her, and she wonders if maybe she is attempting to get close to her to gain her trust before turning on her last minute. (The foster system has taught her to be wary of anyone, even those close to you—she wishes she had held on to this more tightly with Neal). However, the woman's expression has softened considerably since their initial meeting, and she seems to be concerned about her wellbeing. She still needs to know she can be trusted. "You promise?"
The mayor replies with sincerity. "I promise."
"Okay," she whispers.
Regina takes her hand away then and turns her gaze in front of her. She stays quiet for a minute, and Emma notes she appears to be in deliberation. She holds her breath, expecting the worst, but the woman simply taps her hands on her bare knees before talking again. "You know, if you didn't want to get caught, you should have at least considered the back door. Anything would have been better than the front."
Emma's cheeks burn at hearing this. That would have been her next move had she not been caught. I need to re-evaluate my house break-in tactics… Or just not do it again. She feels the need to explain herself. "Like I said, I was desperate. I didn't see your car, so I thought I'd be okay."
Regina stops the tapping and looks back at her with a grin. "It was just a joke, dear."
"Oh."
She's trying to make me feel more comfortable.
She wishes it had. She is still unsure of this woman.
Regina's expression becomes serious then. "I need you to be honest with me. Are you really pregnant?"
The mayor clearly still has her own reservations about her. This makes Emma feel a little better, as it shows Regina is being genuine with her responses. She doesn't hesitate in answering, wanting her to know that she has been honest about her situation. "Yes. I promise I'm not lying to you about that. Or anything I said."
"And the father?" she asks gently.
"He left me." Emma fidgets with her hands as she lets herself get lost in those memories for the second time that night. "I should have known better. I was stupid to think he loved me. As soon as I told him I was pregnant, he wanted nothing to do with me."
Regina frowns. "I'm sorry, dear."
She shrugs it off. "It's whatever."
"No, it's not whatever. He hurt you. It's a shame that he did that to you."
Her eyes begin to tear up (for what feels like the hundredth time that evening), and she bites her lip against the waterworks. Regina immediately goes to console her, rubbing comforting circles on her back. The kind gesture helps her recover more quickly, and she is able to push Neal out of her mind as she focuses on the here and now with Regina.
Ten minutes ago, this woman would have gladly had my ass arrested. Now she's comforting me. She even cracked a joke about me trespassing on her property.
It amazes her how abruptly things changed.
She takes off her glasses when she is okay again and dabs at her eyes with the end of one of her coat sleeves. After she is done, she puts them back on and looks to the brunette. "Thank you."
Regina smiles kindly and then nods behind her. "How about we go inside? It's getting cold out here." She comes to a standing position, walks to the front door, and puts down her briefcase.
Emma quickly stands up and watches in confusion as she takes out her house keys from her coat. "Wait. You're really going to let me in after I almost broke into your house?"
The brunette turns around. "Well, unless you'd prefer to sleep outside for the night?"
"No, but… You trust me?"
There isn't a hint of uncertainty in her voice when she answers. "Yes, dear. I trust you."
She is somewhat shocked. She feels like she should protest, make it clear to Regina that she's about to let a criminal inside her home. All she wanted was this woman not to call the cops on her, and here she is now, insisting she stays the night. For her to trust her so soon after they met, especially with knowing barely anything about her… Well, that means a lot to Emma.
"Okay."
Regina nods and goes to unlock the door. She puts a hand on the door handle, but before she opens it, she looks back to Emma. "There's one more thing I want to know before we go inside."
She complies. "What's that?"
"Your name, dear."
She laughs lightly. "Oh. I guess that would be helpful." She decides on formality and puts out her hand, attempting to redeem herself from earlier. "Emma Swan."
Regina smiles at the polite gesture and takes hold of her hand, shaking it. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Swan."
Emma feels a chill run down her spine. This is the first time she has really taken in the woman's features, and as she continues to make eye contact with her, she finds herself getting lost in her brown orbs.
God, she is really beautiful.
Whoa, whoa. What am I even saying? I just met her.
Do not think of her like that. Don't.
She realizes then that too much time has passed, and she is still clutching the mayor's hand.
Shit. Let go of her hand, Emma!
Regina saves her, though, and she releases her hand. She doesn't appear to be bothered by the prolonged hand holding, but to Emma, it's a big deal. She is sure her face is bright red now, but thankfully Regina has her back to her as she opens the door.
Oh my god, I'm ridiculous.
Way to be professional, Em.
The brunette wakes her out of her stupor when she bends down and picks up the misshapen bobby pins laying by the door. "Oh. You might want these back." She holds them out to her.
Even though she is still embarrassed about goggling over her, she finds it in herself to joke around. "So I can break into another house?"
Regina chuckles at her reply.
"They're useless now, but thanks anyway." She takes them in her hand.
Regina continues to hang in the doorway and folds her arms across her chest. "Does that even work against most locks nowadays?"
"I almost had it for yours. A few more seconds and I would have had your door unlocked."
"Guess I need to get a better lock."
"Believe me, this method works better than you'd think, regardless of the lock. Especially with practice." She blushes again when she realizes how open she's being about her felonious background. "Because I've, uh, obviously had a lot of practice with picking locks."
The older woman grins. "Guess you'll have to teach me then? You know, in case I lock myself out of my house."
Emma's heart flutters at this. She is probably reading into it too much, but her statement seems to imply that the brunette isn't looking to kick her out any time soon. At least, not in the next couple of days.
She doesn't know why she is doing this to herself. She's connecting herself to Regina, which she knows is a huge mistake.
She's only looking out for you, okay? There's no feelings there.
But she wants there to be. And she hates herself for that.
She sticks the bobby pins in one of her coat pockets. "Yeah. Just in case."
With that, Regina picks up her briefcase and walks inside. Emma stays outside for a few seconds more and slowly blows out a nervous breath.
Still can't see my breath.
Despite this, she is relieved she won't be spending the night in her car.
Emma walks inside the house and closes the door behind her.
There's a couple of things I've changed from the show. I've done it purposely to make it work with the story.
I hope you enjoyed it! Leave a comment in the box below and let me know your thoughts.