ANGRY HEARTS

.

.

.

- Put it down.

Emma's hand shook for a moment.

She looked at the scotch spilling from the top of the glass, hypnotized by the slim trail of liquid dripping along her fingers.

- Go away.

It was a rabid snarl, throbbing with unshed tears. A play too well-acted to really intimidate the former Queen.

- A Saviour would fight. She would protect our son.

A laugh slipped automatically from the blonde's throat, but there was no joy in it.

- Neal is dead. I'm not the Saviour anymore.

- You're still a mother. React. Avenge him.

She raised her green eyes, burning with fury, a mere breath from Regina's.

- To become like you?

Behind alcohol and hate Regina sniffed a deep pain. Way too familiar.

- I blamed the wrong people. You don't.

She grabbed the sheriff's wrist, forcing the glass down on the counter.

- It wasn't your fault, Emma.

.

.

.

.

Note: thanks to Lurk Amo, a wonderful beta reader and a wonderful person.