Regina hated boats. It occurred to her that she should've put Storybrooke in a nice, landlocked state, but she liked having a beach. A lake was just as good. Why couldn't she just sit it down next to a nice lake? She could've had a lakeside cabin and still lorded her body over all the peasants during bikini season.

Regina also hated sailing. It was like being in a litter where the bearers were drunk. Obviously, she'd hated just stepping on Hook's boat—what pretentious name had he picked for it, the Black Pearl? But once it was in motion, she hated it even more.

And, of course, she hated Emma. She hated sharing a cabin with Emma. There were only three cabins in Hook's boat (one of the reasons she hated it), and of course Snow White and her prince got one all to themselves. Regina could've quite tolerated rooming with Hook—she'd even put up with Rumpel; seeing him mooning over his lost love all over again would've been hilarious.

But no. As she'd overheard Mary-Margaret say, they didn't want Emma with anyone with whom there might be "hanky-panky." As if Emma could seduce so much as a teddy bear into bed. But as usual, Mary-Margaret got her way, and while Hook and Gold were living out some sitcom about former arch-enemies being roommates, she and Emma were joined at the hip.

And Emma snored. Good Christ, no wonder she'd conceived Henry in her teens. No one who shared a bed with her could possibly get any sleep done. Unfortunately for Regina, conception wasn't an option. She'd just have to put up with Emma.

It occurred to her that this counted as a family road trip. She needed to look into the possibilities of mind-altering drugs.

Emma snorted in her sleep, rolling over, her body's motion sending her hammock into a sway. Regina watched it desultorily. Was it possible? Had Emma stopped snoring? Had Emma Swan somehow become less annoying?

"No, I don't want any cheese," Emma mumbled in her sleep.

Never mind.

Regina closed her pillow around her ears, trying to think of something to put her to sleep. Memories of happy times with Henry? Or reliving all the times she'd made Mary-Margaret cry? Maybe imagining Henry making Mary-Margaret cry.

"That cheese is bad!" Emma insisted sleepily. "Why would I want bad cheese?"

Regina stared at her. She really should've let Graham live. Going to sleep with that would've been punishment enough.

"My unicorn body might be lactose-intolerant anyway!"

"For the love of the ancestors, Emma, you don't have to eat the cheese if you don't want to!" Regina cried, struggling to keep her voice low.

Emma paused for a moment. She didn't seem to be rolling over anymore. Then she yawned. "Thanks…"

No. No way. Not possible. "Emma, I do believe your hair is on fire."

"Noooo," Emma yawned, her hands feebly slapping at her scalp. "Put it out, put it—"

"It's out," Regina said quickly. Well. She'd known Charming was easy to manipulate, and Mary-Margaret obviously had the will of a sponge that was desperate for social approval. Who could've guessed Emma's subconscious had inherited her parents' spinelessness? "Emma, look. Over there. It's Regina."

"Mmm?" Emma flopped around a little in her sleep. "Oh, hi Regina…"

"She's coming closer," Regina said teasingly. "She's running toward you. Quick! Run away!"

Emma's feet moved spastically in the hammock. Regina wished she'd brought a camera.

"Oh no! She's got you! She's tackling you to the ground!"

Emma slurred something muffled as she struggled with her blanket.

"Now she's got you pinned down! You're helpless! Trapped! She's turning you over! Binding your hands and feet! You're completely at her mercy!"

Emma mumbled a little as she dug her fingers into the hammock.

"What's she got in her hand?" Regina asked. "Good Lord! It's a whip!"

"Mmph!" Emma said. "Mmmmmm!"

"Your clothes are off! Your bare back is exposed! She's raising the whip high… higher… higher… you can barely breathe, imagining the pain! Now the wind's whistling as the whip comes down!"

Emma yowled in her sleep, kicking, fisting her hands as she felt the impact in her dream.

Regina smiled to herself. Perhaps she didn't hate boats after all.


Hook brought them breakfast in the morning, as usual. Emma thought it was sweet and charming and that he was Captain Jack Sparrow because he wore eyeliner. Regina thought it was because he wanted into someone's pants and cooking with one hand was a small price to pay for that. She had it on good authority (Rumpel) that he'd been bringing waffles to Mary-Margaret until David had told him to knock it off unless he wanted to be called Captain Hooks, plural.

"And how did the lovely creatures of my humble ship sleep?" Hook asked, graciously serving Emma some sausage.

Regina restrained herself from rolling her eyes for fear they'd go so hard that her face would break.

"I'm sure Regina woke up on the wrong side of the bed, as is the custom of her people," Emma said. Regina mock-laughed and stuffed some bacon into her mouth. She didn't hate bacon. "As for me, I actually had a pretty awesome sex dream."

The bacon left Regina's mouth.

"Are you alright, my star?" Hook asked solicitously, and Regina noticed that Emma was also looking her way.

"I hate boats."