A/N: This started out as a headcanon, which became a dialogue fic, which then became this. You'll want to watch the "Heros" sneak peek for 'Welcome To Storybrooke' before reading, or, alternatively, not read if you don't want to be spoiled... though I think the spoiling would be very mild indeed. Feedback is always appreciated!

"You were going to use that potion," Emma seethed, "that curse, to force Henry to love you. Are you really that desperate, Regina!?"

Regina said nothing, just stared straight ahead — almost blankly, a little bit sad — while the sheriff berated her. She pursed her lips haughtily, hoping to distract from the tears and the shame in her eyes. The mask, however, was not needed. Blinded by rage, Emma noticed neither sign of regret.

"Regina!" She barked again, making the woman startle in her seat.

"Yes!" Regina spat back, a treacherous droplet of water escaping down her cheek, knowing her companion surely saw nothing more than the tears of a crocodile.

Emma let out an indignant snort, as though she had known that answer all along, but had almost convinced herself it wasn't true. "You're so desperate for love that you would curse your own son," she leaned forward menacingly, baring her teeth. "Again."

Regina shook her head furiously, breaking just a little more. "No," her voice wavered, pleading for understanding as the tears began streaming of their own free will.

Scowling eyes bore into her.

"You just said —"

"I wasn't going to use it on him," Regina ground out urgently. She couldn't let Emma think she would hurt their son — not on purpose, not again — no matter how humiliating the truth may be.

She braced herself for the question she knew was coming, the one she could already see swimming behind stormy green eyes, now softened by confusion.

"But I thought..." Emma floundered, breaking character, the tough act fading. "Who were you going to use it on, then?

Regina sighed, closing her eyes. She had to tell the truth. There was no other believable lie.

"You."

Emma stopped her pacing mid stride. "Mm-me?" she stuttered.

"Yes, dear," Regina sneered, taking a moment of pleasure in catching her counterpart off guard. Just like old times. "Do you see anyone else in this room?"

"Why would you want me to think I was in love with you?" Emma panted, and Regina was pretty sure the woman was consciously reminding herself to breathe. The moment to revel in drawing such responses had passed, though. Now was the time for honesty.

"Because," she explained in her best mayoral tone, trying to distance herself. "It was the only way I could have everything."

Emma shook her head, frowning.

"I'm not following."

Figured.

"If Henry believed you loved me," Regina swallowed hard, knowing how foolish it all would sound when spoken aloud, "then he would give me another chance. He would learn to love me again — genuinely."

Emma seemed to follow this train of reasoning, but her expression said there was still a link missing somewhere. "But then, wouldn't you be kind of, you know," Emma waved her hands about, as if to magically conjure the right words, "stuck with me?"

"That was to be part of the vengeance," Regina smirked, careful not to look too indulgent. "Surely, my romancing the saviour would torture your mother to no end."

"Yeah, one little problem," Emma scoffed. "She'd be dead."

Now the real truth began wriggling its way to the surface. Regina looked to the floor, wanting to hide any traces of vulnerability from those inquiring eyes. "That's why I couldn't go through with it," she whispered.

"Come again?" Emma's patience was wearing thin.

Regina looked up, their gazes locking together. Her voice was tight, but earnest, as she finally replied, "I couldn't take your mother from you, the way she took mine from me."

Emma looked at her with a sadness, a sympathy, that told Regina she understood. That she did not condone her mother's actions, but was grateful nonetheless for her life having been spared.

"Well, if I thought I was in love with you," Emma sputtered on, awkwardly clearing her throat, "wouldn't I maybe think I could forgive you?

Regina nodded solemnly. "And therein lies the problem."

Blonde hair cascaded back as Emma's gaze shot upwards, beseeching the ceiling for assistance.

"Alright, can we stop talking in riddles for a minute? Lay this mess out straight," she said authoritatively, sweeping her hands out levelly in front of herself.

"Your forgiveness would not be true, nor would be your love," Regina said plainly. "I tried to make Graham love me once, in this same way. Sometimes you can almost trick yourself into believing it's real," she smiled a little, though it quickly turned callous. "But it's not. Maybe Henry would learn to love me again, but you? You never really would."

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. She had put all the pieces together, Regina knew. Now she was just stepping back to see the entire picture.

"You..." Emma started, then stopped, running a hand through her hair as it all came into focus. "Regina, are you saying that you want me to love you?"

Her heart raced at the very notion. Regina instantly caged the butterflies in her gut, chilling her already cold demeanor.

"There is no use in wanting for impossible things," she replied flatly, eyes fixed straight ahead once again, as if their conversation had come full circle.

Emma dropped to a sort of half-kneeling position before the former queen. While the irony was not lost on Regina, the thought soon found itself pushed to the back of her mind when pale white fingers came to rest hesitantly, yet tenderly, over her black stocking-clad knees.

"It's not impossible," Emma began, her eyes huge and uncertain, though still somehow reassuring.

"It's not?" Regina inquired, a little too urgently, cursing her desperation. She hated how much she needed this; how much she needed love, needed family. How much she needed this woman crouched before her.

Emma smiled a little; amused, but not mocking, giving a slight shake of her head in confirmation. "But you can't force it," she stipulated firmly. "You can't make me love you."

Regina nodded her understanding, but her eyes were skeptical. "You really think you could grow to love me one day?" she asked, as if not daring to hope.

"I mean, yeah," Emma shrugged, trying to cover her blush when the implications of their conversation caught up with her. "Someday. I think maybe I could."

Regina smiled. It wasn't a promise, but at least it was a start.