Emma dumped Henry's backpack on the couch in the Charming apartment. "Hey kid, could you nuke some chicken nuggets for the two of us? David and Mary Margaret are on a date tonight, so we're on our own for dinner."

Henry frowned slightly. "Dinner? Emma, it's only four."

Emma paused on the stairs. "You saying you don't want chicken nuggets until later?"

Henry shook his head before sticking in into the freezer and rifling around. "I mean let's call chicken nuggets 'after school snack' and have pizza for dinner!"

"Sounds good, but we'll have to order mushrooms and olives to make sure you're getting your vegetables. And no soda." Emma anticipated Henry's words as he pulled his head out and opened his mouth to speak. "Not even Sprite. Listen, I'm going to take a quick shower to see if I can wash the magic residue off or something. I still feel kind of tingly in my fingers and toes."


Mildly frustrated, Emma shut off the water and reached for a towel. It wasn't unpleasant, really, just... strange. Just another part of all this weird she'd suddenly inherited, she supposed. Not that she couldn't try to use it to her advantage.

Emma ditched the towel and decided to try drying herself magically. She closed her eyes and imagined a quick gust of wind to quickly evaporate the moisture, concentrating on willing it to happen.

"Shit, that's cold!" she hissed, hugging herself as her hair whipped wildly around her. She hurried out of the bathroom and shut the door behind her on the whirlwind she'd apparently created, hurrying to her closet to don something warm.

After finding solace in a turtleneck and some flannel pajamas Emma turned her attention to her hopelessly tangled curls. As she brushed her mind wandered to the day's events. She found herself searching for bruises from her altercation with Regina, and finding none yet, turning her thoughts to where exactly the mayor would have magicked off to. Their conversation the previous evening at the diner, Regina's attempt at civility, replayed in her brain as she tried to reconcile that image of a kind, thankful woman with the heartlessness she'd seen through the dream catcher. It didn't seem possible, yet she had seen it, hadn't she? Emma flopped onto her bed with a sigh.

She sat up when she heard a crinkling from under her pillow. Indignation rose within her as she inspected the sheet of copy paper lined with what was undeniably Regina's neat cursive. She apparated here? That's definitely breaking and entering or something. Nevertheless, she smoothed the crumpled paper on her leg and began to read.

Dear Ms. Swan,

I realize that you are wary of me and my intentions at the moment, but understand that I write not to proclaim my innocence or demand to see Henry, but rather I wish to issue a sincere warning I beg of you to take to heart.

Emma snorted.

Be careful with magic. I cannot stress enough the fact that all magic comes with a price. Magic may give you everything you could want- freedom, power, victory – but it isn't a free pass. Your bill will come due and the price will be hefty. Magic can built kingdoms, but it can also rot a person to her core.

You've barely begun to use magic, you still have a chance. Please, quit while you're ahead. It has its allure, but you must resist. Once you've tasted magic it can become a craving, an addiction. Look to what magic has done to Rumplestiltskin, to Cora, and to me. Power corrupts, magical power even more so than any other. For your sake, for Henry's, and for all of Storybrooke's please do not go down that path.

Emma ran a hand through her dry hair rather guiltily. She read on.

I also warn you to be wary of Gold. He taught my mother, he taught me, and I am sure he would love to entrap you with his web of magic for his own purposes. If you should require my help I ask you to use the mirror.

Mirror? Emma flipped the letter over several times, then felt under her pillow. Finally, she found it between her bed and the wall where it had evidently bounced when Emma had flopped onto the bed. She had been expecting some ornate royal hand mirror, and was admittedly a bit let down as she inspected the modern portable compact mirror. After grappling with the purple plastic for a moment she was able to figure out how to open it. A twinge of shame struck Emma as she traced the crack down the middle of the mirror with a finger. She weighed Regina's warnings against the embarrassment of having been given a magical mirror and breaking it immediately.

Decision made, she closed her eyes. "Reparo," she whispered. She opened her eyes slowly to inspect the damage, and grinned when she found the glass unmarred. "Just call me Hermione," she muttered. She set the mirror aside for a moment to continue the paragraph.

Simply speak the password, which I am sure you'll guess, and I will answer. I will not be appearing in town nor will I give away my location, as I do not wish to meet my end at the hands of a lynch mob. However, understand that I am willing to help with Henry, with your newfound magic, with Archie's case should you continue to investigate, or with anything else you may question. I am willing to help, and I hope you will not be unwilling to ask.

Emma considered trying out a few possible passwords but decided to finish the letter first.

I wish to apologize for my behavior earlier. You antagonized me and magically threatened me, but I rose to the bait and escalated the situation. Tossing you through the air was unnecessary. I behaved more like the Queen I used to be than the mother I wish to be now, which I do regret.

Please tell Henry I love him.

Sincerely,

Regina

Emma blinked in surprise. She wasn't sure how to feel about the ending, really. She pushed away the cocktail of surprise and shame and empathy swirling within her to focus on the pressing issues the letter brought into question:

1. To use the mirror or not to use the mirror?

2. To hide it from Snow and Charming or to let them in on it?

3. Most importantly, what should she tell Henry?