A/N: First OUAT piece for me, still feeling the characters out a bit even after a three-day S1 marathon.
I'm sure this story will quickly be AU thanks to the impending premiere, but it seemed a plausible (and interesting) enough idea so here we are. I'd planned on it being a multi-chap but I think it stands on its own as an AU pre-season 2 piece.
Spoilers: through the S1 finale.
The Evil Queen is afraid.
She's been afraid before – in a different life and a different world – but never quite like this. This is actual physical fear, a gnawing cold as ice realization deep inside her that tells her that when they get here – when the righteously angry mob finally arrives at her mansion – they're going to hurt her badly.
If not worse.
Funny thing is, death seems preferable to what they could do to her in the angry haste for revenge. Her mind whirls with the sickening possibilities, and for a moment, she's frozen in place, stuck where she's standing in the middle of her bedroom, completely and utterly unable to move.
If she does, she's certain that she'll fall to her knees.
And this time, she's not sure she'll have the ability – or strength – to try to stand up again. She's not sure she'd see the point in even attempting to do so.
She stares into the mirror above her dresser, for a moment losing herself within her own distraught caramel colored eyes. This isn't vanity (no matter what the storybooks say, none of this has ever been about simply being better or prettier than Snow), this is reflection. For the briefest of moments, the woman who has called herself Regina Mills for the last twenty-eight years of her life, finds herself unimaginably lost in the painful sins of her hideously ugly past.
Because that's all that's left of her now.
Her sins and her pain.
And unspeakable acts of vengeance.
No longer just her own, though. The time for that has come and gone. Not to say that she no longer feels the old familiar hatred and rage brewing deep within her withered and blackened heart and soul – of course she does – it's just that she now understands the reality of the situation fast approaching her.
Today, she pays.
Because that's just the way of things. In the end, Evil (no matter the reasons behind it or the origins of it) always loses.
Always.
She opens her eyes, and is surprised to see the wallpaper of a bedroom (not her own, too flowery and artistic for that) instead of the white (or red) of the afterlife.
She hadn't expected this.
She hadn't expected to still be alive.
And yet, somehow, inexplicably, she is.
Oddly, she's not quite sure if she's relieved or disappointed by this quite unexpected revelation.
She tries to sit, but is almost immediately overcome by a surge of white hot pain ripping through her frame, settling deep in the middle of her ribcage. Unable to stop herself, she cries out, sealing her eyes tightly against the searing agony.
And then, as she's gasping for breath, trying so very desperately to center and calm herself, she hears a voice. Annoyingly familiar. Throaty and worried sounding. "Easy," the voice says. "Lay back, okay?"
She does as told, but opens her eyes once her head connects with the softness of the pillows beneath her. She looks up and into the concerned green eyes of…
"Miss Swan?" she rasps out, alarmed by the labored scratchiness of her own voice. She coughs a few times, but the dry hacks hardly help.
"Yeah, it's me, Regina. Try not to speak."
"Why not?"
"Because you're hurt, and you don't need to be wasting you energy."
A sarcastic reply streaks through her mind, but for once, Regina bites it back. Somewhat because it hardly seems right to be cruel to the person who had most likely saved her life, but mostly because it just seems like too much work.
Too much energy.
And frankly, she just hasn't the desire, either.
"The mob?" she asks instead.
Emma nods slowly. "They came for you." She frowns then, and shakes her blonde head in confusion, "But then, you knew they wouldn't, didn't you?"
Regina meets her eyes, doesn't even bother to try to lie. "I did."
The very angry mob arrives a few hours later, led by the dwarf named Grumpy and that obnoxiously self righteous little Blue Fairy (in spite of everything going on right now, Regina can't help but derive some pleasure at knowing that for the last twenty-eight years, the slutty little high and mighty sprite has been stuck playing the part of a pious – though still somehow arrogant - nun). There's rage in the tiny man, and superior indignation in the once winged creature.
Interestingly enough, Regina notes with a hint of gallows humor, the Fairy is not yet back to her old pixie self, but there is a strange kind of…energy about her.
No, not energy. Magic.
The Blue Fairy has her magic back.
Well okay, so that's a problem. A pretty damned unfair one at that.
As she watches the group (about fifteen people large, apparently they don't make mobs like they used to) approach from the window of her bedroom, she sighs to herself. She knows that the doors to her mansion won't keep them out for longer than a few minutes if that – knows that they will get their pound of flesh today one way or another – but she'll be damned if she'll offer herself up to them willingly.
If they're going to hurt her, beat her, kill her, well then they're going to have to own those acts of violent brutality. And when it's all over, when their bloodlust is finally sated, they're going to have suffer the guilt of their heinous deeds as she has hers (no matter what they think). She won't give them an easy out.
No one has ever given her one.
She descends the stairs and moves herself to the foyer, turning one of her dining room table chairs around to face the front door. She seats herself in it, crossing her legs as elegantly as possible considering the pantsuit she's wearing.
She lifts a glass of red wine to her lips, and drinks deeply of it. The liquor does nothing to settle her completely shot nerves, but this isn't about numbing the pain or dulling her senses (well maybe it is just a little). No, this is about letting these people coming for her know that she's not afraid of them.
Even if she is.
It's just a few moments before she hears the nearly psychotic pounding on the doors. She takes a second to smirk about their stupidity and naivety. Like she's going to just open the doors for them, and invite them in.
Yes, please come in and murder me. Might I offer you a cool drink first?
Her amusement slides away a moment later when the doors burst open and the fifteen or so members of the mob surge into her mansion, Grumpy still at the lead. He's got a rusted out tire iron in his hand, and she allows herself a flash of indignation at that. The idea of being felled by a greasy piece of metal chafes at her, even now. It's seems so…beneath her.
Not that that matters anymore.
No, it always matters.
Especially now. She lifts her head up to gaze at the group assembled before her, her eyes seemingly cold and unconcerned. Also a lie, but a convincing one.
"Your Highness," Grumpy growls, his tone making it clear that he has no respect for the title he has just addressed her by.
She takes another drink from her wine glass in response (just a sip now, simply for appearances sake), and meets his eyes with her own dark ones. She doesn't reply to him, though, won't give him the dignity of that.
Because no matter what these people try to tell themselves, this isn't justice, this is vengeance. Not that she doesn't understand – she most certainly does – but she won't legitimize what's about to occur by responding to their charges.
"You've destroyed our lives," the dwarf continues. "Now it's time for you to pay."
She nods slowly, won't bother to deny his words (how could she even try when destroying all of their lives had indeed been exactly her intent when she had cast the curse twenty-eight years ago). So instead, with as much elegance as she can manage, she stands up, head still high. "Then let's get on with it."
It's not at all lost on her that this is the second time today that she's said these words in response to a death threat.
The first had come from the mouth Emma Swan after the whole incident with the doctored apple turnover. That threat had been well earned, and yes oddly enough, even though she probably should have been, Regina hadn't been all that worried about the sheriff carrying out her threat at the time.
Mostly because at the time, her (and Emma's for that matter) entire focus had been on Henry.
Henry.
His name brings tears to her eyes, but she blinks them back quickly lest the furious crowd gathered before her thinks that she fears them.
Even if they would be right.
Instead, though it's decidedly unwise to do so, she decides to play with them a little. Put on a little bit of theatre just to prove to them that she still can.
This is pride, and really, it's all she has left.
As one of the men near the edge of the group steps forward, his fists balled with fury and hatred, she lifts up her own hands and extends them towards him, snapping her fingers as if to send a charge his way. The crowd immediately retreats a few steps, waiting for her once immense power to strike them.
But nothing comes. No magic. No sparks. Nothing.
She sighs again.
Because the truth is that despite the purple smoke that had poured through town restoring memories (and magic to some) and despite the strong almost fiery surge of energy that she had felt go through her, she is utterly powerless.
"You didn't get your magic back," a round little man in the back named Harry chuckles, jabbing towards her with his finger. She remembers then that he's actually one of the Three Little Pig brothers. Supposedly the smart one who hadn't gotten himself eaten by trying to hide away in a house of sticks and straw.
"Clearly not," she answers, her voice haughty, and a just for play smirk flittering across her lips. It's an act, but one that she can pull off better than just about anyone. She can tell that she's pissing these degenerates off simply by refusing to appear to be frightened of them, and well, that's something.
She refuses to play the part even if doing so would likely save her a great deal of pain and suffering.
She's just not built that way.
"Well then, I guess we are really going to make you pay today," Grumpy states, slapping the tire iron against his rough palm for effect. She lifts an eyebrow at him, showing clear displeasure at his weapon of choice. His grunt of anger is enough to let her know that she'd succeeded in crawling beneath his skin.
Nice to know she can still do that with or without her magic.
"Either that or you're going to bore me to death," she finally answers, looking away from him as dismissively as she can manage. That she barely feels the hatred of these people is her secret as well. She's just so tired, too tired to care.
"Is that all you have now? Your quips and your black-hearted disdain? Have you no actual defense of your murderous actions? Of your despicable crimes?" the Blue Fairy demands of her, eyebrows arched in surprise and outrage.
Regina narrows her eyes and stares right at the woman, hatred sparking in her dark orbs. The feelings she has for the little fairy rival the ones she's always harbored for Snow. In some ways, they're even more extreme. "None that you are worthy of," she retorts.
The Blue Fairy looks for a moment taken aback by the very personal venom being thrown at her by Regina, but then quickly, in her typically ever so righteous way, waves it away. "As you wish, Your Majesty. In accordance with the laws of our native land, you have been tried by a jury of your peers…"
Regina snorts derisively at that. "As if any of you could ever be my peers." She sees the way the crowd shifts at that, hears their anger, and doesn't bother to hide another smirk. That it doesn't quite meet her eyes is her secret.
The Blue Fairly ignores her, pushing on, "And you have been found guilty."
"Of course I have," Regina replies, her voice tight and unemotional.
"Now it's time for your sentence," Grumpy growls, stepping forward. "Submit."
She laughs at that. "To you? Never."
"I was hoping you'd say that," the furious little dwarf growls, once again slapping the tire iron against his hand. He steps forward then, ignoring the shocked look of the Blue Fairy who has begun to look around nervously.
Wondering if maybe things are about to go way too far.
They are. They absolutely are.
From the back of the crowd, someone screams something like "die, bitch!" (how unoriginal and pedestrian, she has time enough to muse) and then reaches back throws something – one of Regina's insanely expensive vases.
She never sees it coming, only feels its impact as it clips off the side of her head, bringing her to her knees immediately. As tiny explosions work their way through her brain, blood pours from a gash on her right temple, and suddenly, the world is becoming very dark.
Very dark indeed.
"Wait," the Blue Fairy says, but the crowd doesn't listen. They simply surge past her, rushing towards the former queen, screaming insult and bleeding hatred. "No, wait, we don't…I don't think we want to do this…"
Had she the energy, Regina would again snort in derision. What had the silly woman thought would happen if she led an angry mob to the mayor's house? Had she expected them to all sit down to a picnic? Or perhaps she had anticipated a nice talking out of grievances.
Ridiculous.
No, this was always what was going to happen. Pretending otherwise is folly.
It seems somewhat fitting to Regina that she should die this way.
Fitting, but heartbreaking.
It's all so very heartbreaking.
The pain she feels as their hands and weapons connect with her body is intense, and as her consciousness (and perhaps her life) fades away from her, she allows herself a moment of sadness at all of the opportunities for hope and love that have been pulled away from her. Not that it matters. Those who were supposed to have protected her so many years before had decided that she wasn't worthy then of their dedication and care.
They certainly aren't about to change their tune now.
The bitter truth is this: she has crimes to pay for, and today, she will pay for them, but there's another truth and that is that many of these people have crimes they should be answering for as well.
But that's not how this works. When those labeled as either good or evil battle, there's no accounting for actions done by those wearing the white hats. No, the very simple reality is that when all is said and done, only those wearing the pointy black ones are called to answer for their sins.
And so she will.
And so she is.
"I should be dead," Regina says dully, the pain radiating through her body a white hot and yet icy cold reminder of this fact.
"You sound almost disappointed," Emma observes, her frown deepening.
Regina meets her eyes for just a moment before choosing to change the subject – at least slightly. "Where am I? And how did I get here?"
"We brought you here."
"We?"
"We," a soft voice says from the doorway. "James, and Emma and myself. We."
Regina looks up, and despite the pain she feels, something else goes through her. Rage, hurt, sadness. "No," she whispers. "No. Not you."
"Really?" Snow asks, stepping towards her. "Now? You can't let go of your hatred even now? Even after we've helped you?"
"I don't need your help," the brunette mayor insists, her words practically a hiss of anger and pain. Her body aches, but right now, so does her hurt.
"You did a few days ago," Emma tells her, with a shake of her head, the memories still heavy in her head.
Everyone around her is staring ahead, looking completely and utterly.
Looking found.
"Emma?" Henry asks, reaching out to touch her hand. It's his voice which brings her back to her senses, makes her blink and regain her wits.
Okay, so what if she'd just seen a giant purple cloud wind its way through town like fog off the San Francisco bay. After the events of this day – finding out who her parents are and fighting a dragon – a little bit of smoke doesn't seem like much of a big deal.
Only it's clear that it is a big deal. A really big deal.
A moment later, she realizes just how big of a deal it is when the cloud crashes in through the windows and covers all of the occupants of the room for just a few seconds. When it flows by, there's a weird kind of tingling in the air.
"Magic," the woman behind her – Mother Superior – says with wonder. She lifts up her hands, and to Emma's amazement, they spark blue.
"She's the Blue Fairy," Henry tells her. And then, a massive smile forming on his face, he adds, "They're getting their magic back. Everyone is!"
"Everyone?" Emma queries, turning to face him. "Including your mom?"
Henry nods slowly, the grimness of this settling on him. "Probably."
"That's bad, right?
Henry nods again. "Probably."
"Damn." She looks around; noticing that the woman Henry had called the Blue Fairy has suddenly gone missing. Remembering the woman's previous words to Regina – the ones where she'd told the mayor to run - a bad feeling settles heavy in her gut. Desperately, she searches the hospital room for someone she can trust. Her eyes settle on the forms of Granny and Ruby, who have just entered, both of them looking quite confused and disorientated. "Ruby," she calls out.
The brunette wanders over. "Emma?"
"I need a favor."
Ruby blinks at this, but quickly recovers, a slight tremble to her voice as she replies, "For you, anything."
"Right, thanks," Emma answers, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. The way people are looking at her unsettles her, disturbs her. She's no savior no matter what they think. That said, for now, she uses it. "I need you to watch Henry for me. Don't let him out of your sight."
"I can do that."
"Wait, no. Don't..."
"Henry, I have to. It's okay, you're safe."
"I am, but you're not."
"Don't worry about me, kid. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."
"Where are you going?" Ruby asks.
"To find Regina," Emma answers. "Before she does something or has something done to her."
"Why do you care?" Ruby queries.
"I care because she's Henry's mom," Emma replies. It's not entirely the truth (at least not the whole truth), but it's at least close enough to be workable right here and now.
"No, you're my mom," comes Henry's immediate response.
She moves back around to his side, reaching out to touch his face and make him meet her eyes. "Look, I know it's hard for you to understand right now, kid, but so is she," Emma states. "And right now, she's in a whole lot of danger."
"Danger?" He cocks his head when he says this, as if just now realizing that when the "good guys" make the "bad guys" pay, someone gets hurt.
"Don't worry," Emma tells him, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "I'll find her."
Henry nods. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek – lingering perhaps a moment longer than is needed – and then turns and races out of the room, ignoring the curious looks that follow her down the hallway.
When she exits to the street, the first thing she sees are all the wandering people. They're lost and confused. They don't understand where they are.
Or who they are.
This is all Regina's fault.
She should pay for this.
But not at the hands of the angry mob that she is certain is on its way to Regina's house, each of them with hatred in their hearts and murder on their minds.
She can only imagine what will happen if they attack Regina. If the Mayor fights back, if she uses her long dormant magic, there could be a body count.
And what if she can't use her magic? What if things are different here? What if Regina is so out of practice as to not be able to defend herself?
She takes a step towards the street, towards Regina's house, and then hears her name being called out. She turns her head slightly, intending to blow off the speaker, but then she sees who it is coming towards her.
Mary Margaret.
Also known as Snow White.
Jesus.
Not now, oh not now. Please?
So much for that.
"Emma," Snow calls out again, and this is when the blonde sheriff notices David Nolan standing next to the schoolteacher. His hand in hers. There's something about them now, though. Something different. Something…
"Prince Charming?" she whispers, disbelief coloring her voice.
David – Prince Charming – James – smiles at that. "Hi, Emma."
He steps towards her, but Emma quickly moves back and away, a hand up. "Not yet. I…uh…not yet. I can't…I can't deal with this yet."
"We understand," Snow tells her, and Emma sees the tears sparkling in her suddenly insanely bright eyes. "We just…we understand."
"Good. Look…I…I want to have this…I want to get to know you, but I have to do something. I have to stop something."
"What?" James asks, tilting his head. There's something almost bizarrely regal about him now. There's a strange kind of confidence.
Wow, this is all actually happening. This is real.
Oh, boy.
"Did you see Mother Superior pass by?"
"The Blue Fairy," Snow nods. "With Leroy – I mean Grumpy - and some…some of the others. They were –" Snow stops then, as if realizing.
"On their way to Regina's house," Emma finishes.
"How do you know?" David asks, brow furrowed.
"She said as much when the curse broke. She warned Regina to run."
"As well she should have," David nods. "The things that woman has done." He practically growls as his speaks, his voice thick with anger.
And hatred. That's there, too.
"Wait, how did the curse break? Do you know?" Snow queries.
"I do. It's a long story, and I promise I'll tell you later, but right now, I need to get to Regina before they hurt her."
James starts to answer, but Snow reaches for his arm, silencing him with her touch. "Why do you care?" Snow presses, her voice so very soft and curious.
"Why don't you?" Emma lobs back. "After all you two have been through together, you know that this is not how it should end."
"For you and her or for me and her?"
Emma pulls back at that, clearly confused and taken aback. "What? What the hell does that mean?" Then she shakes her head. "You know what? It doesn't matter. The mob has a good lead on us. I need your help. Please." She looks from Snow to James, and then back to Snow. "Please."
Though it's quite clear that James has no desire to assist Regina in any way, Snow again makes the call. She clasps his hand, and nods. "We'll help."
Regina sits up in the bed, groaning through the maddening discomfort of the action. She can see that Emma is about to protest, about to tell her to lie back down, but she waves these words off with an impatient flick of her hand, and fixes the blonde woman with the most intense gaze she has at her disposal. "Why? Why did you save me?" Her eyes drift over to Snow when she asks this. "Why did either of you? No one would have thought less of either of you."
"I would have. I would have thought less of me," Snow tells her.
Regina snorts at that, frustrated by the constant and seemingly unending "good" of the woman. It's infuriating. Just for once, she'd like to see Snow show some goddamned humanity. Be angry and hateful and hurtful.
For just a few seconds, bleed red instead of just white.
She looks at Emma again, wincing as she turns her head. She allows a hand to reach up and graze the side of her head, where a thick white gauze bandage sits, likely covering up a very ugly wound. "Why?" she demands once more.
"You're Henry's mother," Emma shrugs, and Regina is pleased to at least see some degree of conflict in the blonde sheriff's green eyes.
Some degree of imperfection.
"Not to him I'm not," Regina snaps back. "You're who he wants. You're who considers his mother." She knows that she's purposely pushing them, intentionally frustrating them and making them reconsider their acts of kindness.
Well good.
Good.
Because maybe the sheriff had been right. Maybe she had been disappointed to have woken up. Maybe she'd actually looked forward to…well nothing.
Because maybe nothing would have been better than returning to this hell.
So much for the curse having given her a happy ending.
"This thing with Henry, it's complicated," Emma tells her.
"Not at all, Ms. Swan. He's made his choice. He knows what I am now. Who I am. He wants nothing to do with me."
"And you – you of all people – are just willing to accept that?" Emma frowns when she asks this because none of this is right. She hasn't known Regina for terribly long – just a few months, really – but she knows enough of the mayor to know that surrendering to anything or anyone is simply not something she does.
And right now, this sure as hell looks like surrender.
"Yes," Regina answers crisply, only a slight shudder from her wounded frame betraying the supposed certainty of her words." I always knew what would happen if the curse got broken. I knew I'd have to pay for what I did. And despite your rather obnoxious need to always play savior, pay I have and pay I will."
She's out of her mind for doing this. She knows it, can feel the doubt gnawing away at her insides, chilling her gut and making her heart pound out an uncertain beat, and yet she persists. She does what no one rational would do; she protects her worst enemy.
And judging by what she can see occurring through the forced-open doors of the mayors' mansion, Regina is going to need the protection.
Two things go through her mind as she races up the hedge-lined path to the mayor's mansion, both of her parents right behind her. The first is that the woman at the bottom of the violent mob pile likely deserves what she's getting after all the pain and hurt she's caused. The second is that she simply can't allow this to happen. She simply can't allow Regina Mills - also now known as the Evil Queen to everyone in Storybrooke – to be murdered.
She tells herself that it's a matter of simply attempting to prevent justice from being perverted by anger and rage, but there's more to it.
It's complicated.
Which isn't at all convenient for anyone.
Emma Swan has every reason to hate the brunette woman inside the massive mansion. Many years prior, Regina had cast a spell that had caused Fairytale Land (Emma blanches a bit thinking about this, so preposterous is the realization that such a world is actually real) to become a small little town in Maine.
A town where time stopped and no one was all that happy. Including Regina if she's honest with herself, which Emma rather doubts she is.
Thing is, Emma's pretty much known this kind of grinding sadness and loneliness to be the real world. That's life in general so while the lack of magic feels like damnation to these people, it kind of just feels like reality and normalcy to her.
Enough so that she has the desperate need to stop what's occurring.
And so into the house she goes, gun raised. The moment she's through the door, she fires her gun towards the staircase. The bullet lodges into the winding curve of the wood. The crowd – stunned by the sound – backs away from Regina's fallen body.
With Snow at her side, she swings forward, moves through them, and then ducks down beside the unconscious mayor. Bloodied, beaten and unconscious in the middle of the mob, the mayor is curled tightly into a protective ball that hasn't really protected her at all. The glass from the shattered vase is around her, showing signs that she's rolled over the shards a time or two.
"What the hell were you people thinking?" Emma angrily admonishes as she leans down to brush hair away from Regina's cheek. It's an almost gentle motion, and perhaps that's because right now she feels enormous pity for the woman.
The things she's done have been awful for sure, but the beating she's endured is grotesque. It's inhumane. The good guys aren't supposed to be capable of this.
"You don't know what she did to us," Grumpy growls.
"But I do," Snow states from where she is kneeling by her daughter' side. "Better than most." She smiles lovingly at Grumpy. Then, her expression hardening, she addresses the crowd. "And this is very wrong."
"She's a witch!" Harry the smart Little Pig calls out. "We burn witches!"
"Not this one," James insists, joining Emma and Snow. "I promise you that the Queen will pay for what she's done to all of us, but not like this. We're no better than her if this is how we act."
He turns to face his wife and daughter, and sees them both over Regina. They're checking her wounds, gauging the severity of her injuries.
"David," Emma says suddenly, looking up at him. "I need you to pick her up."
He shakes his head, as if not understanding. "What?"
"She needs medical attention, "Emma tells him.
"No one in this town will help her," a voice calls out.
"I know," Emma answers softly. "Which means we need to help her." She looks at Snow, and then back up at James. "Please," she adds.
She sees the turbulent storm that goes through her fathers' eyes. He's conflicted, and she understands that. It's not easy to find the heart to help the person you blame for intentionally destroying your happiness.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees a short wide man step forward, his posture aggressive. He yells something about how the "bitch" – presumably Regina – has to die. Emma focuses him with a cold glare and says simply, "Maybe, but you'll have to go through me to make that happen."
He falls backwards. Smart guy.
She returns her attention to David, and is somewhat surprised to see him approaching. For a moment, she tenses, fingers closing around the grip of her gun. "Easy," he says, holding his hands up. "I'll help." He turns to the others, and his voice taking an air of authority, he tells them once again, this time much more firmly, "This is over. There will be no more vengeance today. Go home."
As he reluctantly steps forward, bending to lift Regina's unconscious form into his arms, Emma slides beside him, her gun out towards the crowd.
"Anyone makes a move, and I will shoot you," she says softly. There's a cold determination in her eyes – one even she can't explain the existence of – and so strong is it that not a person in the room doubts her words of warning.
No one moves to stop James as he carries Regina from the room.
"You still haven't answered why," Regina states. "And spare me the nonsense about right and wrong." She looks right at Snow. "After all I've done to you."
"I know what you've done," Snow says. "And I –"
"Don't you dare forgive me," Regina hisses, acting as though someone has just poured hot oil directly onto her skin.
Snow cocks her head at that. "Why is the idea of that so horrible to you?"
"I don't want your forgiveness."
"Why not?"
"Because it's easier without it," Emma suggests, eyes locking with Regina. Not for the first – or likely last – time, Emma's struck by the realization of just how alike she and Regina are. No, they don't share the same code of honor, but they both do have a deep and hollowing sense of loneliness and despair following them around like a stray puppy dog. Both of them are completely and utterly lost.
Regina doesn't dispute her words, just closes her eyes and lets a flash of agonizingly white-hot pain wash over her.
And again, she wonders if she's relieved or dismayed to still be alive.
Regina smiles thinly, humorlessly. "All of your heroics aside, Ms. Swan, make no mistake; neither you – nor your mother - can protect me forever. They will come for me again." Emma starts to protest, but Regina shakes her head to stop her, her voice dropping down as she speaks. "And if they don't, he will."
"Rumplestilskin," Snow says softly, a hint of dread in her tone.
"I may have taken something from him."
"You just couldn't help yourself," James admonishes from the doorway. He's standing there, his posture stiff, making it very clear that he objects to her being here, to helping to keep her safe from the righteous anger of the others.
"Oh, spare me, dear," Regina retorts, her voice suddenly sounding very to odd to Emma, and quite familiar to Snow. In this moment, she sounds not like the suburban mayor she's been for the last twenty-eight years, but rather like the haughty Evil Queen of their los and now found homeland. "No matter what you might believe, I'm not the most evil force in the world."
"You're right, Your Majesty, I don't believe you," James answers back, stepping into the room. "I don't believe a word you say ever."
"Well look at that, perhaps I was wrong about him. Perhaps you did find yourself a smart boy after all, Snow," Regina cracks, her tone vicious and yet somehow unconvincing in its' fury. It's like she's just drained, somehow completely unable to bring forth the depth of the normal rage and hatred that she feels for Snow and Charming.
"Don't you dare speak of him," Snow answers, her eyes lighting up.
"Enough," Emma snaps, seeing where this is going. Even though the history she knows of these three is from the pages of Henry's book, she knows enough to understand that the ugly feelings that exist between all of them can't be healed simply by wishing them to be.
All of that is for later anyway.
Because Regina is right.
It's not over yet.
Rumplestilskin will be coming for her.
Perhaps, for all of them.
Fin