Author's Note: This is another bit of randomness from my Google Drive. It's based on the idea that Regina gave Emma her memories when she gave Emma and Henry a happy ending at the end of "Going Home." When Emma gets back to Storybrooke, there's a bit of a problem with the fact that the two women now share everything.
Summary: Trope: mind/dream sharing. There was an unexpected side effect of Regina giving Emma memories of never giving up Henry in "Going Home." This story takes place after Zelena has been defeated. Swan Mills family feels.
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Get Out of My Dreams
"What is it with you and fires, Miss Swan? This is the second time I -"
Speaking into her phone, Emma cuts off Regina with a huffy, "Hey! City hall was Gold, not me." She put her free hand on her hip as she surveyed the kitchen's damage. She spoke again into her cell. "Looks like you get Henry back early. I can't get someone in here until Monday."
Leaning on the breakfast bar, Henry surveyed the damage and asked, "Emma, where will you stay?"
"Granny's I guess."
Henry said. "What about Gramma and Gramps?"
"They've got Neal," Emma said, immediately shooting down the idea of moving in with her parents and new baby brother. She hadn't worked so hard to get her parents into their own place only to live with them again, even temporarily. She flexed her hand and realized she still hadn't hung up from Regina. "So I'll bring Henry by, yeah? Get your stuff, kid," she told him.
Henry flung his backpack onto his shoulder, as usual carrying most of his stuff with him already.
"I will see you in a few minutes then," Regina acknowledged, ending the call.
Emma rolled her eyes, closed her phone and shoved it into her pocket. "Car," she pointed, grabbing her red jacket off the couch. She looked back at the kitchen as she locked the front door and winced at the mess of extinguisher puddles amidst the stain of black smoke that climbed up the kitchen walls.
She braced herself for the disdainful look on Regina's face.
"It really was just an accident," Henry soothed. "It'll be a quick fix, right?"
Emma smiled at him. It wouldn't, but she decided he didn't need her doubts. "Yeah, it'll be fine. Sorry our time together got cut short. We can do the movie and popcorn night another time."
"We can still do it," Henry said. Emma felt the bottom drop out of her stomach at his eager tone. "I'll just ask Mom."
"Uh. No, hey. Kid," Emma protested. "Your mom and I are getting along better," - though Emma was still coming to terms with the realization that most of her fake memories of raising Henry had belonged to Regina first. Henry had belonged to Regina first. "But your time with Reg- your mom and... my time... No, there's no way," she finished lamely as they pulled up into the drive at 108 Mifflin Street.
Henry was tumbling out of the car the second it fully stopped. "Just wait! I'll ask!"
Emma planted her hands on the wheel wondering why she wasn't already putting the Beetle in reverse and driving away.
The she saw her. Regina stepped onto her stoop to greet Henry and took him in her arms in a warm hug. She saw and felt it as if she was doing it herself. Damn mixed up memories. Henry was talking to Regina and her eyes were closed just listening to the sound of his voice. In her own chest, Emma felt the emotions of contentment, happiness, utterly helpless under an onslaught of love so overpowering, her knees went weak. For a year she'd lived with that. Regina had ten. A tension, like a string pulled in her chest, made her open her eyes. Henry was stating his proposal; Regina stiffened. She lifted her dark head from atop his and put her fingertips under his chin. She was working her jaw, choosing her words before she spoke. Her gaze moved toward Emma. To avoid the inevitable confrontation, Emma dropped her gaze to put the car into gear.
"Emma!"
Biting her lip, Emma put the car in neutral and pulled the handbrake. Henry's hands slapped the side of the car as he failed to stop before colliding. "What'd you forget, kid?"
"You." Regina answered, her hand alighting on Henry's shoulder inside the backpack strap.
Reluctantly Emma's gaze traveled up from the woman's hand on Henry's shoulder to meet Regina's eyes.
She spoke quickly. "I need to clean up back at the loft."
"Henry says you were planning a movie night." Regina hesitated then spoke with some of the former menace which Emma recognized as 'mama bear'. "And a movie night he shall have."
"Well, the movie's back at the loft," Emma replied. "Probably covered in muck." She'd have to pay the replacement fee at the rental store she thought and groaned.
"Nope." Henry waved something in her peripheral vision. She turned her gaze away from Regina to focus on the object. "Got it right here," he said. He was smiling.
"Kid," Emma said.
"Mom's got this great big screen. C'mon," Henry said.
"Regina can watch it with you," Emma said, sure to her bones that she didn't want to sit under the dark brown judging gaze of Regina anymore than the woman wanted her there.
"Miss Swan," Regina said, taking her hand from Henry's shoulder and flexing the fingers almost nervously. "Come inside. After the movie you can leave." Emma almost thought she heard a note of dismay at the word 'leave'.
Henry was looking at her hopefully; Regina didn't look like she'd eaten a lemon. Whether it was more the latter than the former that released the tension in her chest, Emma couldn't say as she pushed open the car door. "All right," she said, eyes never leaving Regina's face, waiting for the woman to take back her words.
The brunette's face appeared to burnish with redness in the late afternoon sun. Regina's hand slipped over Henry's shoulder once more, and mother and son led Emma inside their home.
"Shower first," Regina said to Henry when he started immediately for the TV room. "You smell like smoke." Henry redirected himself and his feet pounded a rhythm up the staircase. She turned to Emma. "We have a guest bath."
"You don't have to do this. I'll head over to Granny's. I'm sure there's a corner room I can squeeze into."
"Henry wants you here, so here you will stay." Regina shook her head. "So, would you like to clean up?"
Emma looked down at her sooty hands. Her face must look similarly dirty. A feeling hit her not unlike when she had been six and come in from playing outside and ordered by her foster parents to clean up before dinner. She sighed. "Just point me the way."
Regina nodded. "Upstairs to the left."
Emma started up the stairs. A few steps later, she heard heels striking the wood. Looking back over her shoulder, she found Regina following.
"I need to retrieve a towel for you."
"Oh."
Emma entered the bathroom to the left of the staircase. Before she closed the door, she watched Regina step into another room down at the other end of the corridor.
A knock rattled the bathroom door. Emma stood dripping wet wrapped in a towel she had found stacked on the counter when she emerged from the shower. "Yes?" she called out, not moving from the counter.
"I have some items for you."
"I found the towel."
"I have a shirt, and..."
Emma pulled abruptly at the door, her other arm clutching at the towel tucked around her breasts.
Regina's eyes were downcast when Emma first opened the door, but shot up as her jaw dropped open. "Miss Swan!"
"I don't need your charity, Regina."
"You do need clothes."
"Just give me back mine."
"They're in the laundry with Henry's items."
Emma groaned then looked at the clothing held in the woman's outstretched hand. She gaped. "A t-shirt, and sweatpants? I didn't think you owned stuff like this."
"I don't," Regina said disdainfully. "I snapped them up with magic."
Emma blinked. Regina shoved the clothing into her hands. Emma saw the unspoken resentment in the tightly pressed dark red lips: I broke the one rule my son asked of me to do this.
But Regina's voice, when she did speak, was calm. "Come downstairs when you're dressed. Henry is already viewing the advertisements on the DVD."
The woman turned away before Emma could say anything more, leaving her standing in the bathroom doorway holding a navy blue t-shirt and black sweatpants.
The music of the introductory credits was playing when Emma finally made her way down the staircase. She used the sound to navigate to Regina's living room. Henry sat on the couch with a bowl in his lap. "Emma!" he enthused when she appeared in the doorway. Then he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and returned his gaze to the screen.
Regina turned around in a doorway, holding an empty tray in her hands. "I have lemonade, iced tea, or-"
"Iced tea is fine," Emma chose quickly. Regina walked out of sight. Emma exhaled and settled primly to the couch next to Henry and looked toward the 52-inch screen; sheesh, Regina went all out for the kid's entertainments, she realized, seeing now the video game consoles, a PS3, Xbox, and a Wii. "So, kid, are we still watching the same movie, or did you pick out something else?"
"You've got to get the rental back to the store, so we're gonna watch 'Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters' still," he said. "Mom's never read the books, but I think she'll like the movie."
Regina returned just as the studio theme began to play and the words "feature presentation" appeared onscreen. Emma saw Regina hesitate, but before she could make a move to change her seating, Henry pressed himself into her side and patted the cushion to his other side. "Here, Mom."
Emma took her glass of iced tea when Regina held it out in passing. Over Henry's head, Emma studied how carefully Regina settled to the cushion. But then Henry's hand slid over her pant leg grasping her hand, and Regina looked down at their intertwined fingers. A shy smile tipped up the corners of her lips before she bent and kissed his head, releasing the no doubt oily fingers. Henry, however, never saw the smile, too engrossed in the opening action of the movie.
Damn that feeling of simultaneously being the recipient and the watcher crept over Emma again. She crossed her arms over her chest and pushed back into the cushion with every intention of blocking out Regina just a few feet away.
Henry's head had dropped into Emma's lap during the movie, as it did on many of their movie nights, but Emma felt awkward stroking his hair as she normally would, and instead kept her hand still on his shoulder. Regina had his feet in her lap and had covered them with a small blanket from the back of the couch. He sat up as the movie finished and said, "Thanks, Mom, Ma. Night," before heading for the stairs.
Regina asked, "Do you need anything, Henry?" There was a hopeful note to the question. Henry shook his head. "All right," she said. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Emma?" he asked.
"Emma will be here," Regina said, overriding Emma's hesitant "Well, I..."
He smiled at Regina and Emma frowned. When they were alone, Emma shook her head. "Regina, this isn't right. I'm gonna go."
"Henry has full lives with both of us in his head now, since the memory spell was broken."
"I know that. It's why we agreed to the need to share. But movie nights don't need to be shared, too. You and I -"
"I thought I made this clear at the town line. Henry loves you, he wants you in his life, so you will stay in his life."
"But that doesn't mean you have to take me in like some -"
"You are not a stray." The vehemence in Regina's words took Emma aback. "You are Henry's mother."
The silence following Regina's statement was total. Emma just stared at the woman, aware her jaw hung slack. Regina looked away first.
"Regina?"
The other woman said nothing more. Instead she rose, collected the DVD from the player, and handed its box back to Emma.
"It was an acceptable film," Regina said. "Good night, Emma."
Emma hesitated, leaning forward on the couch cushion . "Regina, do you want me to stay?"
"You shouldn't go back to the loft alone."
"I spent most of my life alone. The memories of not being alone were never real."
"Can you so easily go back to that?"
"It's not about easy. It's about right. Henry's here, he should stay, and I should go."
"I didn't give that happy ending spell to just Henry, Emma."
"Well, spell broken. Life goes on." Emma let her irritation show.
"Why are you so determined to leave?"
"Why are you so determined that I stay?"
Regina looked stricken by Emma's words; then her expression revealed dismay, and finally frustration. "Fine. Go. You can explain it to our son." Regina headed for the staircase, reaching for the banister.
Emma turned at the front door, looking up at Regina on the staircase. Defeat had etched itself into the hunch of her shoulders, the drop of her head, the slow movement of her feet. Emma looked out the open door then closed it. Regina froze on the steps.
"I guess it is kind of late for me to try Granny's," Emma said.
Regina's didn't respond for a breath, but then spoke quietly. "I have a guest room."
"Ever have any guests?" Emma asked, and her tone was intentionally cheeky. Regina's eyes flashed golden brown with ire at the dig. But her shoulders had straightened. Score, Emma thought, having hated seeing the brunette look anything other than confident.
"Just one."
"Yeah? Who?" Emma followed Regina to the second floor landing and paused, leaning on the rail as Regina opened a door.
"Blonde, average height, deplorable taste in clothes," Regina replied as the door swung inward to reveal the bedroom. "Green eyes. Good heart." She said this last, looking directly into Emma's eyes.
This time Emma looked away first. She stepped into the room, taking it in, turning around only to get a last glimpse of Regina's silhouetted profile before the brunette closed the door.
Regina's sleep was restless. Henry was back under her roof. He was safe, and he was happy, so why was she unable to sleep? Her mind churned in a way it hadn't since Emma first came to Storybrooke. She was sifting through memories like a film on fast forward, but then it would suddenly back up and play again, with something different.
She sits at Henry's castle with the smell of the sea in her nostrils and the breeze pulling at her hair. She remembered seeing Emma there, but did not recall doing so herself with Henry, ever. He sits beside her, pensive. She reaches out to hug him, and he smiles up at her. Then Emma is coming toward them, coat pulled around her tightly, face taut, and Regina feels her happiness vanish, replaced with anxiety as Emma grabs her angrily and pulls her away from Henry.
"It's not real," Emma says. "Why the fuck did you do this to me?"
She is staring into Emma's face at the waterfront, then at the town line, then at the mines. Confusion buffets her and she puts her hand to her head trying to focus. "Miss Swan, I -"
"What is this?" Emma demands. "Why are you here?"
When Regina turns away from the blonde's angry visage, her gaze alights on the castle only to see no child. "Henry!" she calls out to him.
"What's going on?"
"Where's Henry?" Regina insists. "Where is he?"
"He was just…" Now Emma's eyes find the empty space on the castle. "Kid!" She cups her hands around her mouth and hollers, "Henry!"
The two women turn their backs to one another and scan the area for their son. Regina feels Emma's shoulder push against her own. I'm not alone, she thinks. The thought is barely finished before she feels Emma's hand wrap around her own. "C'mon. Let's get our son."
In a flash, Regina and Emma move underground. It looks like a cross between a tunnel in the Storybrooke mines, and a New York subway, with the acrid smell of smoke, and the rumble of an approaching train.
The railcar tracks are under their feet though and there is no platform. Nearby floats the self-destruct diamond humming and spinning, pulsing with the magic it is ingesting in its determination to revert the area to the untouched Maine forest it had once been.
"What the hell?" Emma grabs for the diamond only for both of them to see her hand pass right through it. Just as Regina is realizing it is still a dream, she is standing on one side, staring at herself, taking in the words she said to Emma on that fateful, desperate morning. Coming from Emma's mouth.
"They only see me as the Evil Queen. Even my son. Let me die as Regina."
"Regina, I -"
She blocks Emma's voice from her mind and watches herself begin the process of siphoning off the magic from the diamond. Every part of her is shaking, even now, simply watching.
Hands grip her arms and she is shocked into opening her eyes. "No, you don't. Henry isn't going to lose two parents in two days." She falls back, the diamond returning to its full draining speed. The ground violently shakes beneath them, with bits of rock cracking off the walls.
"I'm not strong enough," Regina laments, again and then her hand flies to her head, once again wracked by confusion. Is she there or here? Is it now or then?
"Maybe we are," Emma says. Her fingers are pulled to the diamond. She watches the magic enwrap their joined hands and draw off the self destruct. There are a few seconds of both herself and Emma holding their breaths. Then the diamond explodes and the shockwave throws them to the ground against the wall.
"We did it," Regina says.
"Yeah, we did," Emma echoes.
Regina's eyes shot open. Panting, she realized she currently lay in her bed. Fisting her hands in the sheets covering her body, she drew breath slowly and deeply several times, finally succeeding in calming her racing heart. She pushed herself up and rolled over to stare at the familiar, comforting confines of her bedroom. As she turned, there was an afterimage, a shadow… showing other decor, other things, surrounding her. Slowly she sat up, searching for the robe she knew should be at the end of her bed. In the after-image there was nothing there.
She sighed in relief when she felt the robe's satin fabric against her fingertips. Standing she shrugged into it and tied the sash. The simple familiar action served to steady her further from the disorientation of the last several minutes. Striding quickly for the door, she pulled it open while her other hand clutched the frame as she looked out into the darkened hallway. A prickle of awareness turned her head toward Henry's room. The door was closed and the darkness beneath suggested he remained still deeply asleep. She glanced to her right. Oh.
Emma Swan sat on the floor against the wall beside her guest bedroom door, elbows on her upraised knees, palms covering her face.
Regina wanted to retreat, wanted to act as if she hadn't seen Emma. She felt her body even beginning to shift the center of her weight over her back foot when suddenly Emma's hands pulled away from her face and fisted against the floor. Eyes gone dark green pinned Regina as effectively as the Sheriff's body had once pinned her to a supply locker.
"Why did you do that?" Emma asked.
Regina didn't have to ask for clarification. "I didn't have any time for anything else," she admitted.
"So damn the consequences?"
"I wanted you and Henry to be happy."
"I get the kid, I do, but why me?"
Emma had pulled herself up the wall while she spoke, and now stood at eye level only a few feet away from Regina.
Regina felt herself relishing the way Emma's gaze held hers. The depth of connective tissue which seemed to bind her to this woman felt deeper than even that day at the town line when they'd both known what had to be done. "I finally could do something meaningful," she finally said. "For no other reason than it would be the right thing to do."
"Is that what the scroll showed you when it knocked you out?"
Regina savored the memory of that experience, moreso the moment she opened her eyes to see Emma crouched over her, holding her. Even with the knowledge of what she had been about to lose, she had smiled then briefly and did so again now. "Something like that."
Emma grinned back, quick as a flashbulb and almost as startling. "Most of the time I didn't really question what I'd remember. But there'd be these ... flashes. Like déjà vu, or a daydream, of someplace else."
Knowing Emma had two sets of memories now, Regina asked, "Storybrooke?"
Emma shook her head. "It was almost like the Enchanted Forest when Snow and I visited," Emma said. "But not my experience," she added after a considered pause. "A side effect of your choice of spells, I take it?"
I've missed this, Regina thought. She had missed the frank bluntness of Emma Swan. "Yes. It goes both ways, if you were wondering." Now she knew for certain the source of her unusual dreaming since Emma and Henry had returned to Storybrooke, though nothing had been as clear as tonight's, with Emma under the same roof.
The blonde rubbed the back of her neck and released a breath. "You all right with that?" Emma asked, and Regina thought it should have been her question. Maybe they were seeping into each other's consciousness once again.
She had seen parts of Emma the other woman had shared with no one. Not Neal. Not Henry. Not the two idiots. Emma had parts of Regina she had never shared either. Maybe she should have been more circumspect with her spell, she thought as Emma's gaze searched hers. Then there was that pained smile again, and Regina felt this is someone I do trust, and she nodded her head up and down once. Her heart didn't sink like every other time she had ever trusted someone else. "Yes."
"I guess," Emma started. "I guess I'll go back to bed then." She half turned into the guest bedroom doorway.
Regina started to open her mouth to suggest they go downstairs for a longer talk when she heard Henry's door open.
"Mom?" She turned and caught him rubbing his eyes. "Moms?" Out of the corner of her eye, Regina saw that Emma had stopped in her doorway at the sound of Henry's voice.
"Yes, dear?"
Emma's voice layered over hers. "Henry?"
Regina smiled at him. "Are you all right?"
"I… I heard voices."
"Just your mom and I talking," Emma said quickly.
He searched their faces. "Just talking?"
"Yeah." "Yes." Regina and Emma answered together. When Regina turned to look at Emma, the blonde's cheeks were pinkening. "I didn't mean," Emma said.
"It's fine." Regina heard the clock in the foyer downstairs chime the hour. "It's five a.m. I think perhaps we can have an early breakfast."
"Can I have pancakes?"
"We'll start with apple juice," Emma and Regina said together. Regina exhaled and at Emma's nod, she added, "It's still early."
Henry's confusion at their duplicate answers faded from his face and he smiled slowly. "I guess so."
Emma and Regina headed for the staircase simultaneously. Regina pulled her hand back when it fell over Emma's on the same place in the railing. "Excuse me," she said, allowing Emma to descend first.
Henry was behind her when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Emma stepped aside and let Regina lead the way to the kitchen. She looked back at him and saw him take Emma's hand. She dipped her head at his silent look and let their son lead her into the kitchen.
A flutter of contentment tipped her lips into a smile and she handed the juice pitcher from the refrigerator to Emma. "Please pour," she said.
Emma nodded and set the pitcher down, and without asking, reached into a cabinet with unerring accuracy, and selected three small juice glasses. She frowned and hesitated before setting them on the counter. Regina turned away and retrieved the ingredients for crepes.
Henry sipped his juice, perched on the stool at the counter watching her. Emma held out the spatula before she asked for it. Regina shook her head in surprise, but the strange sense of contentment remained, almost a blanket around the three of them as the morning started quiet and easy.
When Henry reached for one of the filled crepes, Emma's "wash your hands" made it out only seconds before Regina's.
Emma put her hand on Regina's when Henry's back was to them as he stood at the sink running the water and applying soap to his hands. "Regina, it seems to be getting worse."
"We're both his mothers."
"Aren't you freaked out?"
Regina shook her head. "Perhaps I should be. But I'm not."
She had no idea exactly what made her do it, but as she finished speaking, Regina turned over her hand and interlaced her fingers with Emma's. The skin was warm and soft, and the solidity of the fingers was reassuring. Emma's eyes dropped to their hands and Regina watched her expression in profile.
"Moms?" Both Emma and Regina looked toward Henry. "You okay?"
Emma pulled her hand free; Regina missed it, closing her fingers to capture the tingle that had arisen. "Just finishing another crepe. You can have the first one." She stepped back to the skillet and added the filling.
Henry came to the counter and slid the first crepe from the serving plate onto a second plate, grabbing a fork. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Regina said. Emma had bitten her lip and backed up. "Next one is yours," Regina informed her.
"No. Thank you. Just juice for now. It's too early."
It wasn't and Regina knew it, but Emma was apparently determined to get off this "echo" pattern between their words and actions. The blonde pushed away from the counter, lifting the juice glass to her lips, and went to the smaller table situated in the corner of the kitchen. She hesitated when she started to settle in one seat and instead moved one seat to the left, avoiding "Regina's seat."
The cooking crepe hissed, and Regina jerked her attention back to the skillet, quickly moving it to the serving plate and starting another.
Henry went to sit at the table as well, and Regina turned to find he had put his hand over Emma's on the table. The action drew Regina's attention to the lacing tied around Emma's wrist. Graham's shoelace, her connection to the blonde's memories supplied. She exhaled and brought the two other crepes to the table with empty plates, one for herself and one for Emma.
The blonde's fingers were sliding through the condensation on the glass. Henry prodded Emma with concern. "You think the loft is that bad?"
"No, I can get it fixed. I'm… I just got stuff on my mind."
Regina closed her eyes and was not surprised to see Emma's thoughts clearly: a memory of walking to work in New York, after dropping Henry at the school bus. They'd had crepes that morning. Emma had wondered how in the hell she even knew how to make them.
She found herself reaching for Emma's knee under the table. The moment she touched it, Emma's gaze shot to her, then to Henry, and then the tension in the leg slowly eased away. Emma put down the juice. "Guess I should check to see if I make them anything like you do."
Regina's lips quirked and tightened even as she tried not to, but a tiny chuckle escaped anyway. She pressed her lips into a firm line and looked down at her plate, lifting her fork to dig into her own breakfast.
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