Sometimes, when she can move past her hurt and betrayal and outrage and mourning, Emma aches for Regina and this new hell the other woman has unleashed on herself. It's Henry's face every time Regina's name comes up in conversation, somber but fearful. It's the gleeful way most of the town has taken to discussing the former mayor's self-banishment. It's the certainty from both her parents that Regina has gone too far, yet again.
It's the memory of Regina, hands tucked into her pockets and her eyes pleading for another chance, another forgiveness. It's her desperation to see Henry, fierce and strong as Emma's own has been these past weeks. And it's Emma's quiet doubt- doubt of what she's seen, what must be true…and yet there's a part of her that questions.
Because she knows people. She knows how they tick, what they want, why they do what they do. In her nearly-three decades of standing on the outside looking in, she's seen more and noticed more about human nature than most people do in a lifetime. And she knows Regina, and knows that more than anything- more than vengeance, more than hatred, more than fury- she loves Henry first. And no matter how selfish that love can be, Emma is also certain that Regina would never do anything to alienate him.
Killing his therapist would qualify, she'd assume.
And maybe it's that doubt that motivates Emma to retrieve an item from Granny's while Ruby watches balefully. She hefts the ceramic dish to one hand and pulls open the front door with the other before Ruby finally sighs and asks, "What if she hurts you, too?"
"She won't." And Emma remembers being hurled backward with furious magic, Regina towering over her with hands outstretched to throw her again. "She won't," she repeats, but Ruby looks unconvinced and Emma knows that her parents will be getting a call as soon as she leaves the building.
Well. Maybe it's for the best.
Regina opens the door immediately. Her eyes don't have the bite that Emma had expected, and the defeat that she sees when Regina meets her gaze throws her for a loop. "I. Uh." She takes a deep breath, extends the lasagna dish. "I wanted to return this."
Regina stares blankly at the dish as though it's an alien object. Emma tries again. "From the party. You made a lasagna?"
"Why are you here, Emma?"
There's a quiet resignation behind the words, a concession of the victory that Emma hasn't wanted from Regina in months. She doesn't know how to respond, not when her own feelings are so conflicted and complex on the matter, so she holds out the dish again and says, "I wanted to return your lasagna dish" with helpless sincerity.
There's a visible change in Regina's posture then, and the other woman composes herself into her more familiar stiff-backed confidence. "I see." She lifts the dish from Emma's hands and turns around, retreating into her house as Emma watches.
A moment before this strange detente is ended and her erstwhile rival disappears again into her self-imposed isolation, Regina stops, her back still to Emma and her hands tight on the doorknob. "Why don't you come on in?" she asks.
A single wall falls between them, and Emma can only follow her inside.
They don't talk very much and Emma keeps news of Henry tight to her chest during the conversation. He's healthy, he's safe, he's cared for. She doesn't dare say that he's happy, not when his heart is as broken as Regina's (and her own, if she's completely honest, with this situation as it is). And Regina doesn't ask, even though her longing is written all over her face.
Then there's a banging at the door, a flash of fairy dust to unlock it and her father and Ruby are running in as though they expect to find another dead body in Storybrooke tonight. She leaves with them and makes the proper irritated protests, and she's surprised to realize that she is reluctant to leave, now that the woman she can't stop dwelling on is sitting on the opposite couch and willing to talk.
She shrugs off her parents' dire warnings when she's brought home that night, and it's only for the sake of keeping this from Henry that they don't bring up their concerns again. And she can't blame them for their distrust, nor can she shake the unease in her mind that suggests to her that her supreme faith in Regina is only arrogance and undeserved compassion.
She can't stop thinking about Regina, locked in her house with no company, the last person who'd loved her finally disabused of the emotion. She can't stop aching for her, and when she next arrives at the mayor's house (this time with a book that most definitely did not belong packed in with Henry's clothes) she stays a little longer and speaks a bit more freely.
"Why?" The demand comes when Emma decides that Henry needs another of his school shirts- they don't run the laundry quite as often as Regina must have, and the kid just doesn't have enough clothing to manage. Her mother offers to shop for him, but it just seems so much simpler to get the clothing from Henry's old house.
She frowns at Regina, still framed in the doorway of Henry's bedroom as though she can't bear to enter it. "I told you. I'm getting clothes for Henry. If you don't want me to-"
"No," Regina amends, "Why do you keep coming back?"
Oh. She stares down into a drawer of perfectly folded undershirts, a flurry of mixed feelings straining to escape all at once. To keep an eye on you is the easiest, For Henry the quickest, but what finally emerges is more honest than she'd ever intended. "I know what it's like to be alone," she murmurs, and when she looks up Regina is watching her with mingled disbelief and distrust.
"Oh, shut up, it's true," Emma snaps, irritated despite herself at Regina's inability to take her for her word.
She's done for now, and she should probably leave before she says something that might trigger the evil queen to prove all her doubts untrue. She scowls and brushes past Regina and out the door, a stack of shirts in her arms, when Regina grabs her wrist.
"You think I'm a killer." And there's a note of strangeness in Regina's voice, an odd sort of wariness that almost softens the other woman to Emma's ears.
She stays where she is, facing away from Regina, the other woman's hand warm against her skin. "I think you've killed people in the past," she agrees, and feels Regina's hand tense. "I think you've done worse than that, even." Her mouth is very dry, and she swallows once in an attempt to moisten it. "And I saw you kill Archie."
The hand is removed from her wrist, leaving the former mayor cold and distant. "I have. But you saw wrong," Regina says, supremely cold once more.
Emma drops her head in acquiescence. "Sometimes I think I might have," she agrees, and when she walks away, Regina doesn't follow.
She doesn't know. That much she's sure of. She doesn't know that Regina's guilty, and it's more and more difficult every day to see her as a murderer all over again. Maybe it's because she's only known the mayor and the mother and never the queen. Maybe it's because she can't imagine why this woman would choose lonely solitude and never take her revenge against the town if she had. Maybe it's because she's never heard a lie in Regina's voice when she's denied it.
Whatever the reason, it's becoming easier and easier to justify visiting Regina nightly, a stop on the way home from the sheriff's office in the evening or sometimes a nightcap after Henry has gone to sleep. Her parents' wariness fades a bit as time passes (her father more so than her mother, who's been understandably burned by Regina far too much to ever accept the mayor's newfound capacity for change), and Henry appears still unaware, though he watches Emma more thoughtfully the nights that she's home late and she knows better than to underestimate his resourcefulness.
She doesn't bring excuses anymore and Regina doesn't demand them, and when they settle down now it's with less acrimony and more smiles, sparingly evoked and reluctantly given. But given they are, and Emma is less and less on guard around Regina every day.
They talk about the old world and how much has changed from Regina's recollections to Emma's recent adventure. Regina is interested in Aurora (They have a mutual friend, she says, and smiles smugly when Emma recalls Maleficent) and they both remember Hook with bemused exasperation. Regina seems vaguely perturbed by Emma's descriptions of the desolation that was once her kingdom, and Emma wonders if she might regret it, once in a while.
"This world gave me Henry," Regina says, and Emma can't argue with that.
It's difficult to talk about Henry at first, when Emma is afraid that Regina might ask to see him, but she never dares and sits silently, tightly, soaking in any information about him that Emma volunteers. Likewise, when Regina starts talking about Henry's childhood Emma is equally taken, quiet for fear of missing anything vital and grateful- so grateful, more grateful than she'd ever have suspected a year before- that Henry has had a mother who adores him as much as Regina does. She remembers her first few years- a baby, raised by doting parents and cast away when natural children came- and she wonders how she could have ever thought to deny Regina's love for her son.
Regina rarely opens up about Cora, and Emma understands. She's found over the years that meeting the parent of a mark is often more telling than meeting the mark himself, and Cora speaks volumes about the woman Regina has become. It isn't an excuse- no, and she does have to remind herself often that the woman in front has committed atrocities to people she loves- but it's an explanation of sorts, and one that rouses more sympathy in her than she's comfortable with. Her own mother may be a bit much for a twenty-something to have all of a sudden, but there is no doubt in Emma's mind that Snow loves her very much.
Why did you destroy it all? she wonders but never says, and when Regina answers with no words but only I had nothing else but vengeance underlined in every memory, Emma can't understand but hurts nonetheless.
"You're the hero of this story," Regina says one day when she asks without saying. There's a sarcastic smile on her face but Emma knows by now that it's only a mask. "I'm the villain. We're only following a script."
"Then what is this?" Emma demands. "What are we doing now?" This is the part where someone not quite as gifted with an overactive tongue would stop, but Emma plows on. "If you're still the villain, what's keeping you from sending everyone here to Amnesia Island all over again?"
A pall settles over Regina's face for a moment and Emma realizes with a quiet thrill of panic that this is something the other woman has considered before. "I couldn't…disappoint Henry," Regina says finally.
And just like that, the fear fades away and the old confidence in Regina has returned. "Plus, I'm always here to stop you." Emma smiles winningly to minimize the words, but You've also got me comes through loud and clear.
Regina halts, at a loss. "Emma…" Her lips part, but nothing emerges from them, and Emma can't cope with the heaviness that settles over them then and rises to leave. At the same time, Regina stands and they're close, closer than they should be, Regina's breath ragged against her face, and her hand closes over Regina's arm almost involuntarily.
"I…" It escapes as a whisper and she can't move, not when Regina's eyes are hooded like that, not when she's noticing the scent of her perfume and wondering what is happening here because is she- are they-?
"I need to go," she blurts out, and then she's pulling away from Regina and Regina is saying something regretful and her eyes are burning Emma as Emma flees from the house and races home without looking back.
The next time she sees Regina, Regina is trying to kill her.
"Did you think that it was this easy?" Regina demands, and Emma is flattened against the inside wall just above the front door of the mayor's house. "Come in, play nice, and the big bad just falls to the power of love?"
And of course, Emma fixates on the most inane part of that because she's still unable to think of little else. "Whoa, whoa, who said anything about love?" she protests, digging her fingers in against the wall behind her. "I just want Henry to be-"
"Henry is mine!" Regina snaps. "And you'd do well to remember that, because I won't be tolerating your happy family much longer if I have to go through you to retrieve him." Her lip curls, and this is the evil queen at her worst, so alien to Emma that she's taken aback for a moment before the words sink in.
"Like hell," she hisses, and the rage and protectiveness that seeps through her then is enough to shake the magic that binds her for a moment and she slides to the ground, landing hard enough to jolt her.
She'd taken the weekend off from visiting Regina after everything had gotten…different last time, and she'd been dreading the awkwardness that would accompany her next visit. She hadn't expected to be greeted by a chilly Regina and attacked the moment the door closed.
Awkwardness took new life in Regina Mills, it seemed.
Regina blasts her with some kind of magical electricity and she stumbles forward, attempting to shout over its noise. "I knew I was right to keep you away from Henry! And if you think-"
The evil queen's eyes glitter and then she disappears and reappears in front of Emma with a knife in her hand, tracing a path to her heart. "What are you going to do, stop me? I'm beyond you, Emma Swan." There's extra venom in her voice as she digs the knife in a hair, and this is perfectly familiar yet not right at all and Emma is struggling to place it and the hunger in Regina's eyes that isn't anything that she's seen before-
-in Regina's eyes-
-and when it all comes together, the knife is making its slow way closer to the heart that Cora couldn't yank out, drawing blood that stains her jacket, and Emma jerks backward and kicks forward, sending Regina-who-isn't-Regina flying and the knife soaring into the air. She catches it, flashing a dangerous smile at her nemesis. "Yeah, I'm gonna stop you."
The other woman smirks back and claps her hands, disappearing with a cloud of purple smoke that leaves Emma coughing and pressing a hand to her chest as that new pressure hits it.
When the smoke clears, she finds her voice again. "Regina?" she calls, and there's an answering moan somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen.
She finds her tied up in a pantry with her eyes furious and some kind of strange glowy energy around her bonds that dissipates when she slices through them. "That was-"
"Cora." Emma kneels on the floor to cut through the ties around Regina's ankles. "I figured." She leans forward to take care of Regina's wrist bindings and refuses to allow herself to notice that she's stretched over the other woman until they're cut through. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that she's the one who killed Archie, too."
"You think?" And Regina's so sarcastic right then that Emma half-laughs, leaning in just a hair more. A gentle hand is laid on her chest, stopping her. "You're hurt."
"It's not that bad." It can't be the reason her chest is pounding right now, why she's trembling and she's given up on breathing altogether. "Hm," she says, and she isn't sure who kisses whom first, only that it's long and needy and Regina's hand stays against the cut at her heart the entire time. (Somewhere along the way it winds up under her shirt, tracing the pattern of the cut until it's magically gone, but she thinks it's fair game since her own fingers have scrabbled up Regina's perfectly tailored suit before they separate, somehow.)
There's more doubt and suspicion than anything nearing an apology from the town, and the search for Cora is just as quickly undermined by those speculating that Emma is too blinded by friendship (and some wagging tongues intimate even love, though that's quickly laughed off as impossible by anyone who professes to know Emma well) by understand the depths of Regina's evil.
In fact, of the few people who seem to believe Emma, there are only two who really do wholeheartedly, and they're both there at Regina's door when Emma opens it one afternoon, trying desperately to smooth down her hair and find a semblance of composure. "Henry! And…"
Snow tilts her head, eyes that feel too much and regret even more shining at her daughter. "I thought Regina might want to-"
And then Regina is coming up behind her and Henry is running into her arms crying, "I knew it! I knew you'd changed!" and there's an overflow of I love yous and there are tears pouring from Regina's eyes too and when Henry yanks Emma into the mess of tears and arms and warmth, even Emma tears up, just a bit. Regina's arms stretch to encircle her, too, and she's never felt more at home.
When she looks up, her mother is watching her, a mixture of regret and affection in her gaze. Thank you, she mouths, and when Snow moves to leave she doesn't stop her. There may yet be some peaceful ground reached between two long-bitter enemies, but now isn't the time for that.
For now, a house once sterile and lonely is overwhelmed by joy and forgiveness and something that Emma suspects might be love, even if she isn't nearly ready to contemplate what that might mean. For now, she catches Regina's eyes and smiles, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
For now, Regina looks at her as though she's her savior, and the irony of that is lost as swiftly as she tightens their linked arms.