"So?" Regina asks, hands clasped before her as she leans forward with her elbows on her knees.

Zelena sips her long island iced tea with two raised eyebrows in her sister's direction, the crumpled receipt sitting on the coffee table before them. "So?" she repeats, shrugging her shoulders.

Regina groans, untangling her fingers to press her palms together in a plea. "You always have an opinion, and you're telling me that you don't have one now?"

"I realised my opinions are wasted on you." Zelena sips from her drink, looking to the side at an interesting piece of art hanging on the wall rather than at her sister. This is a game they play, and Regina should know better than to expect a clean, well rounded attempt of direction from her big sister—if Regina really wanted something less crass, she'd read an advice column.

Swallowing her pride, Regina grips her glass that she's sure has too much alcohol and takes a tentative sip. Her eyes water when she holds back a cough, but Zelena's pleased smile is worth all the fuss. "I need you," Regina says reluctantly, "and you were right."

"Oh I'm always right, sis." Zelena has the indecency to beam, the old receipt clasped between manicured fingers as she inspects every tiny detail. Zelena has always been scarily accurate about anything she might predict, her attention to detail astounding even Cora herself. It's why Zelena is allowed to be a little crass sometimes, Regina thinks, and why everyone loves her for it regardless. "She put a smiley face at the end."

Regina brings her palms up to her face, covering her eyes as she waits for what she really wants to hear. Zelena will ask questions, scrutinise every detail, and then tell her what to do—that's always been the way things have worked. "Should I call?"

The receipt is placed back on the coffee table, Zelena gulping down the last of her drink before sneaking in a sip of Regina's. "I don't know," she says, and that causes Regina to peek at her sister through her fingers.

"What do you mean you don't know? You always know!"

Shrugging, Zelena pushes her empty cup away and doesn't bother to ask before she steals Regina's drink entirely. "You're the grumpiest sod I know, but you're also the sappiest. If she stayed for the grouch, then maybe this one has potential."

Regina glares at Zelena, removing her hands from her face to rip her drink back out of her sister's hold. There's still too much alcohol when she takes another sip from it this time, but she keeps it in her hand out of spite. "She was rude, and said I had an attitude. The only potential she has is to irritate the life out of me." There had also been moments where Regina had been stunned into silence, craving something more than just a stranger sleeping a few feet away from her on the couch.

"She said something to you?" Zelena asks as she makes her way over the mini bar to help herself to some of Regina's apple cider. There's a concerned frown on her face when she turns back toward her sister, a protective instinct flaring at the thought of someone insulting Regina.

Sensing the hardness to Zelena's words, Regina takes another sip of her long island iced tea and sighs through the burn. "I wasn't exactly sunshine and roses either," she defends, fearful for Miss Swan's life with the cruel look in Zelena's eyes. "She's the first person who asked me what I needed after… everything." This time, Zelena's expression softens. They hadn't always been this close, but Zelena had come running when Regina needed her, the only other person to check in on Regina regularly when heartbreak had threatened to end her.

Squeezing Regina's shoulder, Zelena sighs as she reaches over to grab at the receipt again. "She helped you sleep better?" The answering nod from Regina is enough for Zelena to hand the receipt over, the last of the apple cider knocked back. "I'd like to meet this Swan, maybe she'll be the one to finally pull that stick out your arse."

Regina's, "ugh," is enough for the seriousness of the situation to fall away, Zelena stealing another sip from Regina's drink before she's pushed from the arm of the couch, tumbling down onto the floor in a fit of giggles.

She's wasted a week of her semester break on brooding about Miss Swan, Zelena in and out as they talk around the subject whilst Regina sits on a phone number that she hasn't attempted to call. Marian's wedding is in another week and a half, Regina's insomnia worsening with the thought that every time she wakes up in the morning, that's another day closer to her own personal hell.

It's late on a Friday night when she's two glasses of wine down and lonely enough to retrieve the number, blue ink smudged along the sides from handling the receipt too much. The thought of doing something like this again, of becoming addicted to having another person in her life, in whatever form, makes her pause as she reaches for her phone.

There has never been any real plan when it came to Miss Swan or someone sharing her bed, but she aches enough both inside and out to hold onto something tangible whilst her world crumbles just a little more every day. Taking a deep breath, thumb hovering over the keypad, Regina takes the plunge when she types in the number quickly and hits the call button, phone pressed to her ear.

It rings three times before she ends the call, nerves getting the better of her despite liquid courage flowing through her veins. Taking another sip of red wine, the merlot bitter on her tongue, Regina paces the length of her living room with the receipt and her phone left on the vacated armchair. It sits there like a ticking bomb, watching Regina's every move as she finishes off her third glass of wine and stumbles toward the chair with renewed fervour.

Typing in the number again, Regina closes her eyes against the ringing. Miss Swan could have waited for her to wake up instead of leaving the hotel, and the question as to why plays on a loop in her brain until someone picks up on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hello," Regina responds, clutching onto her phone too tightly, "Miss Swan?" There's music in the background and it pounds against Regina's ears when she strains to listen to the voice on the other end.

There's shuffling, a few shouted words, and a man's voice that makes something sick curl at the bottom of her stomach. "She's busy at the moment, maybe you can leave me your name and number and I'll get her to call you back?"

Regina doesn't know what busy means, whether the discarded theory of Miss Swan being a prostitute is actually true when she pieces too many things together. Unwilling to provide her personal information to these people, Regina licks her lips and grabs the wine bottle by its neck. "How long do you think she'll be busy for?" she asks instead, taking a swing of wine and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"She's almost done," the man says, moving away from the phone to do Gods know what. "Hold on, she's coming."

The nausea that threatens to overwhelm her is pushed down with another gulp of wine, images of Miss Swan on her back arching into a stranger's touch enough for her to clench her eyes shut. It brings back too many things she had buried, things that had broken her before she got a chance to build herself back up. "I'll wait," she finds herself saying, tucking herself against the leg of the armchair as she slides down onto the floor.

"Alright," the man says, placing the phone down onto a hard surface with music still filtering in through the receiver. Regina listens intently, searching for sounds that will confirm or dispute her theory. There isn't anything out of the ordinary, nothing she can make out when her waiting time only lasts two more sips of wine before a familiar voice jolts Regina out from a near sleep.

"Hey?"

Regina breathes out a relieved, "Miss Swan." She turns to try and get more comfortable, the room spinning and wine bottle dangerously close to empty. She's had too much, her alcohol tolerance levels at an embarrassing level of low on a usual day, but she hasn't reached poisonous levels yet— and that's a win in her books.

Miss Swan clears her throat on the other end of the line, moving to another location that's further away from the music but not by much. "Who's this?" she asks again.

Regina huffs, irritated at herself for thinking Miss Swan would recognise her when they barely spent more than a few hours together. Emptying the wine into her mouth, Regina swallows the bitter red down and sighs into the phone, the line awfully quiet. "It's me," she says obviously, "we spent a night at a hotel, and you ran out with only a number and a damned smiley face left behind."

Miss Swan has the audacity to laugh, the sound bringing an unconscious smile to Regina's lips before she can school her expression into something neutral. "Need me to sleep on a couch again?" The question is playful, touching base with too many things that Regina shivers at. This is borderline flirting, the type of useless romantic endeavours Regina would have jumped at the opportunity to participate in before.

"My sister wants to meet you," Regina finds herself saying, the empty wine bottle placed atop the coffee table with only a groan of protest when she has to stretch forward to complete the task.

"Does your sister need me to sleep on a couch for her?"

Regina scoffs, tangling her fingers in her hair as she concentrates on not slurring her words. "No, she just wants to make sure you're not a serial killer."

Miss Swan laughs again, obviously amused at something. "Does she want to meet now or..."

Zelena isn't even here, and Regina's pretty sure that if she has to call her sister up to drag her to Gods know where, that will end whatever tentative relationship they've managed to build in the past year. "I don't think she's awake," Regina says slowly, trying to get up on her feet, "but I can meet you." She's called so late for a meeting, and so what if Zelena won't be able to come? Regina is pretty sure that her presence alone will more than make up for whatever disappointment Miss Swan is facing.

The smile in Miss Swan's voice is obvious when she speaks, Regina picturing that little dimple on her cheek and sparkling green eyes that must be alight with joy. "Sure, we can meet at this twenty four hour diner I know?"

"What's the address?" Regina asks, jotting it down on a page she'll shove in a cab driver's face whilst she pretends not to be drunk.

Regina digs into the greasiest cheese burger she has ever tasted. It's got everything inside it, and not one ingredient is even the tiniest bit healthy. Had she been sober, Regina might've cared more about what she's putting into her body, or the way she attacks the food with all the fineness of a bear.

Her companion doesn't seem to mind however, a permanent smile of delight on her face as she eats her own cheese burger, watching Regina with a hint of interest when she remembers to wipe the sauce off her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good burger?" Miss Swan asks, chewing on a fry.

"The best," Regina moans, the sound loud enough to have Miss Swan's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and the waitress that's bringing a refill of their drinks to spill a little cold drink on their table in shock.

"Whoa there, tiger," Miss Swan warns, mopping up the cold drink and shooing the waitress away when she clumsily tries to help. "Might want to keep those sounds to yourself."

Frowning, Regina wipes her mouth with a clean serviette, swallowing her bite of burger before she speaks. "What sounds?" she asks, reaching for her glass to take a healthy sip, the Coca-Cola washing down the heaviness of the burger.

Miss Swan shoots her a look she can't decipher, not when the colours of the diner are so bright, nor when the world keeps tilting on its axis the longer she tries to concentrate on just one thing. Besides, Regina is excited for the first time in a year—how long has it been since she did a midnight run to a place she's never been to before, or eaten a cheese burger, or gotten drunk, or had decent company that wasn't her sister?

Sipping from her own glass, Miss Swan dunks her fries into her cold drink and chews on them thoughtfully, watching Regina the entire time. There had been no real reason for this meeting, nothing beyond I'm hungry, and their identical orders. "Why did you want to meet?" Miss Swan eventually asks, Regina picking her head up from her burger in confusion.

"I—" she manages a shrug, picking at her food now more than eating it. There isn't a real reason, and Miss Swan knows as much, yet being in a random diner across town at midnight with a woman who goes by her last name is far better than sitting at home with only an empty bottle of wine for company. Pushing her plate away, Regina wipes her fingers on a serviette, too sober to smile her way through a situation as serious as this. "I can't sleep," she says, a truth that doesn't apply to this situation, "will you help me again?"

There's a long suffering sigh from the other end of the table, Regina looking at Miss Swan through her lashes before the woman nods her acceptance. "The diner is connected to an inn, I'll go check if there's a room available."

Regina considers stopping Miss Swan, getting her to find somewhere a little more upmarket, but she's gone before Regina can get a word out, a half-eaten burger staring at her from a messy plate.

She learns that Miss Swan hates wasting food, their burgers and fries packed up in a polystyrene container that's carried up to their room with a view of the few trees they call a forest. Regina loves it as soon as she enters, the 80's theme wallpaper and knit blanket on the double bed giving way to thoughts on how easy it would be to turn this place into something truly romantic.

"What are you thinking about?" Miss Swan asks, Regina approaching the window to stare out into a truly breath taking sight. There's more than a few trees down there, a growth of greenery covering acres of land that Regina closes her eyes against.

Licking her lips, left hand pressed against the glass, Regina says, "what a waste it has all been."

"Oh?" Miss Swan probes, moving from behind Regina until they're both staring out of the window, one with a wistful expression on her face and the other with a frown that speaks of confusion. "You think trees are a waste?"

Scoffing, Regina leans against the windowsill, arms crossed over her chest as she takes in the stunning image of Miss Swan illuminated by the dim light of the bedside lamp, her reflection from the window blending in with the forest below. "Not the trees," she clarifies, "just…" and there's that story again that Regina refuses to talk about, her liquid courage mopped up by half a burger and too many fries. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she allows herself to fall backwards, dark hair splaying out over the knit blanket as she stares at the patterned ceiling above her.

There are questions that float between them, things that they should ask each other to rid the label of stranger that sticks to them both, but all Miss Swan does is sit beside Regina's head to look down at the defeated woman. She speaks of insomnia like it's her main problem, but Regina knows that Emma can see how she brushes it aside for something larger than that. "Does…" Miss Swan starts, the word trailing off when her eyes drop down to the rest of Regina's body. "Does your husband know you're here?" she tries again.

Regina laughs, a full bellied laugh that makes her cover her eyes with her hand, engagement ring and wedding band glinting prettily even in the dim lighting of the motel room. "Wife," she corrects, removing her hand to stare up at Miss Swan, her smile slowly disappearing behind a saddened grimace. "Ex-wife," she corrects again, swallowing thickly as the tension in the air becomes too much to take. It's been the first time that she's admitted that fact out loud, her chest constricting with the acknowledgement of it.

"I'm sorry," Miss Swan says hollowly, hand hovering between Regina and herself as she decides where to put it.

"It wasn't your fault," Regina snaps back, Miss Swan's hand retreating to be placed on her own thigh instead. Regina is good at this, pushing people away when she knows she's going to get hurt, but once she lets someone in, she's been known to love too hard. "I didn't mean to snap," she apologises, sitting up on her elbows to push herself into an upright position. She knows the questions that Miss Swan wants to ask the moment she turns to look at her, their faces too close and Regina too drunk to care.

What happened? Why do you still wear the ring? Why do you need me?

It's all there for Regina to pluck and answer, but she has questions of her own. "Why did you help me?" she asks eventually, her voice a whisper that tastes like merlot.

The question seems to startle Miss Swan, shake the very foundations of her easy demeanour when she has to cough up the real intentions behind her actions. She blinks slowly at the closeness between them, licks her lips to stall for time, and when she opens her mouth to speak, nothing really comes out but a puff of hot air. This is what Regina expected, an answer with a sweet lie, or no answer at all.

Scoffing, Regina shifts backwards until she's leaning against the headboard, her boots pulled off to fall onto the floor with an undignified thump. There's nothing for Regina here, not when she had exposed the part of her with an infected scab and got nothing in return for it. Halfway through unbuttoning her jeans, a quiet voice makes her pause. "Because," Miss Swan says, clearing her voice of the roughness in it, "I— I can't tell you without sounding like an idiot."

"No need to try and change that reputation when you're already one in my head." Buttoning her jeans back up and pulling her sweater down, Regina waits for the rest of the answer, her lips parted and eyes narrowed as she holds onto every passing second as if the words that come from Miss Swan's mouth will push meaning back into her life.

"You're pretty," she finally says, Regina's smile frozen on her face as she tries to pull apart that answer and look for the hidden meaning there. "You're attractive, wealthy, and needed me. I didn't help you because I'm a good person, I helped you because…" Miss Swan sighs, rubbing her hands down her face before shaking her head.

"You did all this because of the way I look?!"

Miss Swan winces, but doesn't deny it. "I'm pretty sure you didn't ask me to sleep with you because I'm a decent person either. I saw the way you looked at my muscles, this is the way the world works—"

"I didn't ask you to sleep with me because of your muscles," Regina denies, chest heaving and still drunk enough for her heart to crack wide open. "I asked you to sleep with me because you look like her."

Miss Swan is effectively silenced. She leans away from Regina, looking hurt in measures that they can both pull out and compare now. Choosing each other based on looks? How shallow are they, how mainstream must they be to place their trust in someone because of their level of attractiveness? Regina is not stupid, she's got features that she can be proud of, but should anyone take away her sense of style or well-manicured look, she isn't sure she'd attract much attention from anyone who doesn't love her. Does Miss Swan only see that? Even if she's glassy eyed and a little clumsy tonight, her hair springing out curls from the dampness outside?

Turning her head away, Regina pulls her knees up to her chest and tries to find solace in the obscured view of the forest below. "You don't look like her," she admits after a few long moments, "even your hair is darker than hers." She doesn't know what to expect, but it certainly isn't Miss Swan shifting to sit beside her on the other side of the bed, her clasped hands resting between folded legs.

"I did it because you looked like you could need someone." The whispered confession catches Regina off guard, her gaze moving from the darkened forest to take in the expression on Miss Swan's face. "And maybe… maybe I need someone too."

The tear that tracks its way down Regina's cheek is embarrassing, but she finds that she can't help it, not when the past year of oscillating between the stages of grief have now finally amounted to acceptance. In the dimly lit motel room, Regina comes to terms with the end of her marriage in the company of a stranger with more heart than anyone she's known— someone sensitive enough to wrap a hesitant arm around her shoulders. "I loved it," she rasps, rigid in the hold but not shrugging it away, "being married, having someone to come home to, someone to spoil and plan a future with. I had everything I could have ever asked for, and then it broke in front of my eyes."

Miss Swan swallows thickly, nodding along as her own eyes shine in a reflection of Regina's grief. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she says softly, but Regina can see how curious she is, how much she seems to yearn for something that Regina has had at one point.

"I keep asking myself what I could have done to make it better, to be better, but… I don't—" Laughing through the tears, Regina swipes the lines of saltwater away, moving out of Miss Swan's hold to face her instead. "Have you been married?" she asks, feeling too vulnerable, too exposed to a stranger who doesn't even know her name.

Shaking her head, Miss Swan scratches the back of her neck with a sheepish expression on her face. "Never been one for commitment, just… lots of one night stands." Somehow, that sounds sadder than Regina's divorce with the way that Miss Swan says it.

"Well," she breathes, itching to run out of the motel room and leave Miss Swan behind, her eyes darting to the door to make sure her exit is where she remembers it to be. "that's—"

"What's your name?"

"Sorry?"

Miss Swan chuckles, leaning forward on her palms, "I don't know your name."

The way they bounce from subject to subject should give anyone whiplash, but Regina finds that comforting; they never linger on things that hurt, never linger on the flirtatious banter that threatens to dip into unknown territory. "Regina," she answers easily, her name sounding harsh when it falls from her tongue.

"Regina," Miss Swan repeats, gentle like wind chimes against Regina's ears. "That's a pretty name."

It's something an old man at a bar would say, but it brings a smile to Regina's lips to hear it from a woman who had already confessed to finding her attractive. She's sure that by tomorrow most of the details will be hazy, but for now, there's a stranger in front of her that's patient beyond measure, a tranquillity to her that's almost baffling, and Regina feels the romantic in her yearn for something she had thought she lost a long time ago. "Tell me yours," she finds herself demanding, palms sweating like an elementary school girl making friends for the first time.

"Emma," Miss Swan answers with, the name suiting her so well that Regina wonders how she couldn't have guessed it.

Sticking out her hand, because there's some unwritten agreement between them now, Regina pulls a smile up onto her lips and says, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Emma."

The laugh she receives from Emma is enough for Regina to clasp onto the hand that slides into her own just a little longer, from stranger to acquaintance in a dimly lit motel room that looks like it's stuck in time.

"You're not doing much sleeping."

"I have insomnia," Regina reminds Emma, the blanket scratching her bare legs as she turns to the figure in the dark. Regina's eyes had started drooping not two seconds following their introductions, and after removing their jeans to get under the covers, Regina has been wide awake ever since.

Not impressed with the sass, Emma turns over to face Regina, their bodies not touching, but the heat between them enough that they don't need to huddle for warmth. Regina isn't sure whether she would like that just yet, tentative about getting overly attached too early on.

Emma quietly asks, "why do you think having me nearby will help you sleep?" That's the million dollar question that has Regina almost will herself unconscious just to keep from answering. She doesn't have an adequate response, nothing concrete to justify needing this.

Sighing out through her nose, Regina curls further into the blanket, adjusting her cheek on the corner of her pillow so that it doesn't obstruct her view of Emma's face. "I don't know," she answers softly, "I've never been alone before. I thought having someone might help."

"I get that," Emma says, her voice low in the dark, "but maybe there's another reason? Have you tried seeing a doctor?"

Chuckling, Regina presses her face further into the pillow, the sound humourless when she looks up at Emma's concerned expression. "It's not medically related." That at least she knows for sure.

Their conversation dwindles down into silence again, Emma and Regina staring at each other through the darkness as if something will shift. There's baggage behind Regina that she shields with her insomnia, and Emma holds nothing in her hands, choosing instead to let it run through her fingers like sand. "Earlier," Emma starts, Regina's eyes already on her regardless of a new topic of conversation being broached, "you said something was a waste. What were you talking about?"

Regina licks her lips, breaking eye contact with Emma. "The years I spent being a hopeless romantic for the wrong person."

The answer surprises Emma, Regina can tell with the way her eyes widen when she's brave enough to look at her companion again. "You? A hopeless romantic?" Emma asks, disbelief lacing her words. "I don't believe it."

"Really? What did you think? That I'm some heartless woman with a checklist?"

"No," Emma says, reaching out to hold Regina's arm in apology, "that's not what I meant."

Regina asks, obviously offended, "then what did you mean?"

Emma shrugs, squeezing Regina's arm before letting go entirely, the patch of skin cooling too quickly for Regina's liking. "Prove it to me," Emma says, "tell me what you would do in this situation if you're really a romantic."

"Here? Now?" She's already looking around the room, gaze eager as she taps into the romantic side of her that's been aching to be let free ever since the divorce. "Well, if we were lovers and we were alone in this motel room, then we wouldn't be just talking."

Emma raises an eyebrow, one arm curling under her head as she settles in for the conversation. "That's a given," she agrees, "but that's not exactly romantic."

Humming, Regina licks her lips and shifts closer to Emma, feeling emboldened by the unspoken challenge. "If we were lovers, I would most likely ravage you senseless, and eventually when one of us will feel hungry or thirsty, I'd go down to the diner and order us some food—"

"So diner food is romantic?"

Regina glares at Emma in the dark, her thunderous expression enough for Emma's smile to widen. "If you're going to keep interrupting, the most romantic thing I can think of is murdering you and serving fresh Emma to the diner patrons."

"Kinky," Emma breathes, wiggling her eyebrows. "But do go on."

"As I was saying," Regina stresses, mirroring Emma's position by curling an arm under her head, their free hands resting between them with only an inch apart. "I would go down to the diner and order us some food, then I'd get into our car and drive somewhere we could see the sunrise. When we find a place, I'd make a picnic on the hood of the car where we could spend time together… just the two of us, and the sun." Regina swallows down the lump in her throat, nostalgia making her exhale shakily. "Given the limited time frame it's the—"

"I get it," Emma interrupts, "just the two of us and a view, right?"

Regina doesn't answer, not when there's just the two of them and the view of the forest behind her, not when Emma's eyes are suspiciously shiny as she continues to look at Regina like she's a creature that doesn't belong on Earth. "People would kill to have someone love them as much as you do," she finally says, "I hope you find someone who can appreciate that."

She wants to smile, to thank Emma for saying such nice things, but Regina turns over to face the window, curtains drawn to hide the view of the forest below. "I've been told such love can be suffocating," is all she says, stiffening when Emma touches her arm. She doesn't want to be morose, doesn't want the pretty ring on her finger to still mean so much, but it does, and it kills her more every day.

Emma remains silent from her end of the bed, Regina closing her eyes and deepening her breaths to imitate a slumber that avoids her like the plague. It's after several minutes that the touch from her arm shifts away, the body beside her in bed moving until Regina can feel Emma leaning over. "You're not suffocating," Emma whispers; she inhales once more to say something else, but decides against it at the last moment.

This time, when Emma slips out of bed and shimmies into her jeans, Regina doesn't lie still, not when she's going to be left alone for the second time. "Going somewhere?" she rasps, voice thick with sleep.

Emma looks rightfully caught out, hands on the zipper of her jeans and the hem of her shirt between her teeth. "Uh," she says, dropping her shirt to smile at Regina sheepishly.

"This isn't a one night stand, Miss Swan," Regina says in her teacher voice, pushing herself up to sit against the headboard. "You don't like to get attached, and I'm probably a mess you should leave behind in the dead of the night, but I thought we were past all that." Had she any less pride, Regina might've called herself out on sounding like a wife.

Raising her hands in surrender, Emma shrugs off Regina's scolding like water off a duck's back. "I have work in the morning, so—" pointing her thumb at the door, Emma makes to move in that direction before Regina's cutting voice stops her in her tracks.

"And what is it that you do for a living?" Because images of faceless men and women touching Emma has her on edge again, the taste of merlot so easily rising up from her stomach.

Emma stares at her for a long time, arms crossed as she frowns at the simple question. She knows that Regina is recently divorced, that she's suffering with insomnia, and what kind of car she drives, but Emma hasn't provided much information about herself other than first and last name. "I work at a call centre," she answers a little defensively, "customer service."

Regina was not expecting that, and it clearly shows on her face when Emma crawls toward her on all fours, their faces once again too close. "What did you think I do for a living?' she asks, searching Regina's face for a crack in her armour.

"What would you think someone who takes money for sleeping with someone else does for a living?"

Emma shakes her head, lips twisted in a sneer. "I haven't taken money from you, have I?" And that is true—they haven't even discussed money beyond their initial conversation, and neither of them has thought to bring it up. She makes to move back toward the exit, but Regina grabs her wrist before she can get too far. An apology sits on the edge of Regina's tongue, something heartfelt and appropriate for the dark room where so much has been shared already, but instead a familiar stab in her ribs makes her pause.

She knows that feeling, the feeling of falling for someone, for an idea. Emma needs to be fixed— had said it herself, that perhaps she needs someone in her life, and Regina is so good at fitting into a little puzzle and rearranging it to make everyone happy, that she releases Emma at once. Going down that road again, even if it isn't with Mal, isn't what Regina needs. "I'm sorry," she manages to choke out, "I shouldn't have assumed."

Emma shifts forward with her eyes fixed on Regina, the way she moves making Regina ache with longing and lust. She catches herself, however, pausing before pushing back entirely to finish zip up her jeans. "It's okay," Emma says through clenched teeth, shirt hem between them until she releases the fabric to shield her abdomen from Regina's greedy eyes, "but I really have to get to work." The excuse sticks this time, even if it's before sunrise and Regina can sense the lie in her words. Just before Emma can step out of the door, hand still on the knob, she turns toward Regina with longing in her gaze and pure vulnerability in the way she holds herself. "You'll call me if you need me again?" she asks.

"You should take the food with you," Regina says, nodding toward the polystyrene container, a clear dismissal in her stiff actions.

Emma blinks slowly, looking affected for the first time since Regina has met her. It's an act of pure defiance when she actually takes the food with her, disappearing from the dark motel room with no more parting words.

Emma Swan is searched in the Google tab, rows and rows of names popping up, but not her Emma Swan. Her Emma Swan is a ghost, or completely adverse to social media. After an hour of stalking through too many wrong profiles, Regina officially gives up.

It's been three days since she last saw Emma, her insomnia keeping her up at odd hours of the night in which she spends her time between fretting about Marian's wedding, and wondering whether this magnetism toward Emma is based on a primal need to love something. Other children had wished for bicycles when they were younger, but Regina had always wished for something to love, her heart too big for this world as her father would say. It's a shame he's not alive to witness how her big heart has essentially led to her ruin.

The clock flashes to just after midnight, Regina going insane as she closes her eyes once again to try and get some sleep. Every day without proper rest only makes her cheeks hollow and bags form under her eyes— at this rate, she'll have all her luggage packed under them to move across country if she doesn't do something about those dark circles soon.

Looking up at the clock once again, Regina grinds her teeth together when the clock flashes 12:01 AM. There's no technique that she's tried that has worked so far, but she's intelligent enough to know that it's time to do a little introspection. Insomnia isn't just a physical problem, not when it's caused by stress and emotional strain too.

There's a list she draws up, one simple and to the point:

Possible reasons for insomnia—

1. Grief from being divorced
2. The bed is cursed
3. Emma Swan has ruined me
4. Stress from Marian's wedding

Of the four possible reasons, only one is fixable. And that is how Regina finds herself calling Emma Swan in the middle of the night again.

"I thought after the last time I wouldn't see you again."

Regina manages a smile, shrugging her shoulders as she wraps her coat tighter around herself. They're sitting in Regina's car that's parked outside a McDonalds, a happy meal each in their hands as they watch drunken teenagers come in and out of the place. "I made a list," she starts with, handing the modified list over to Emma who reads it with the slightest squint of her eyes.

"The bed is cursed?" she asks, laughing just a little before biting into her too small burger.

Shrugging again, Regina sips at her apple juice and sighs. "Mal—my ex-wife, she uhm," swallowing down another sip of juice, Regina exhales through a confession that no one knows. "I walked in on her with someone else in our bed." Maybe that piece of information was too embarrassing to share with her sister or mother, not when she's flawed enough to have left open the door to her marriage for someone better to take her place.

"That sucks," Emma breathes out, still looking down at the list that conveniently doesn't have the item about her on there. "So you filed for divorce?"

Regina shakes her head, setting aside her empty juice box to pick at her fries instead. "I tried to make it work, but she didn't want it to." The fact that Regina is casually admitting such truths to an acquaintance astounds her, but she finds that she's relieved now that something so bitter is out in the open.

A strong grip encases her hand, Emma looking on at her with a fierce protectiveness that could rival Zelena's if possible. "She didn't deserve you," Emma says with conviction, making Regina almost believe that. Turning back to the list, Emma points at the third item. "This is the most solvable one, I think. Do you know why you're stressed about Marian's wedding?"

"Mal will be there," Regina answers in a defeated whisper, "with her new girlfriend."

Emma stops for a moment, folding the list back up and handing it to Regina who shoves it in the pocket of her coat. "So every time you go to sleep, you dread waking up because it's a day closer to Marian's wedding—a.k.a meeting your ex-wife and whore she cheated on you with."

"When you put it like that…"

"It makes sense, right?"

Regina looks to Emma with an incredulous expression. "I was going to say ridiculous."

Rolling her eyes, Emma takes a second bite of her burger and essentially finishes the absolutely tiny thing. If she was going to finish it in two bites, why did she ask for it in the first place? Shaking her head affectionately at Emma, Regina eats her fries and leans back into her seat, listening as Emma speaks with too much enthusiasm. "It's stressful seeing your ex. If I had to meet any of my exes, I'd probably combust—"

"Mostly because they'd all ask you why you ran out on them in the middle of the night?" If Regina looks a little smug when she bites into another fry, then she's only grateful that Emma isn't exactly offended at the statement.

"Stop interrupting or else I'll chop you up and serve fresh McRegina on the menu."

Regina doesn't interrupt, but she does smirk with a glint in her eyes that shouldn't be as attractive as Emma's gaping reaction makes it out to be. "As I was saying," she continues, punching the straw into her juice box, "you need to find a way to either get over it, or get even."

"Get even?" Regina asks, that childhood need for revenge making her sit straighter in her seat. "How would I even do something like that when I can't manage to look like a decent human being without a proper nights rest?"

"Simple," Emma answers, a grin on her face as she digs around in the happy meal to produce a rip off version of a fidget spinner, "you fake it."

Blinking slowly, Regina's lips thin as she tries to figure out how that's supposed to help at all. "Elaborate," she demands, snatching the fidget spinner out of Emma's hand.

Huffing, Emma reaches for the fidget spinner again, but Regina pulls it out of reach. She's never been one to give up the high ground, but Emma is something else when instead of sitting back down, she lunges for the toy until they're pressed together in the small space of the car, pale fingers wrapped around Regina's wrist as she refuses to give up the grip on the toy. "What's the one thing Mal doesn't expect?" Emma asks, pushing in closer to Regina who only presses herself further against the door.

"For my life to crumble like it is now?"

Scoffing, Emma whines as Regina moves the toy from one hand to the other, shoving her left hand behind her back as Emma's fingers trail along her spine to get to it. The feel of another body pressing against hers is intimate, the car steaming up with their heavy breathing as they fight for a fidget spinner when there's probably one in Regina's box too.

"For you to be happy," Emma answers, prying Regina's fingers apart with both hands, "for you to be happy with someone who loves you more than she ever could." When Emma pulls the toy out of Regina's hands triumphantly, her smile drops as soon as she notices that it isn't the only thing she's manage to remove from Regina's grip.

"And who would that be," Regina asks in a whisper as they both stare at the rings in Emma's hand, their bodies still pressed tightly together.

Emma's gaze shifts from the rings to Regina's face, noticing the lack of anger there as she takes the now useless pieces of jewellery and shoves it in her coat pocket alongside the list of her possible causes of insomnia. "Me," Emma answers, Regina's eyes widening with shock.

"You'd do that for me?"

Pushing back from the intimate bubble, Emma adjusts herself in the passenger seat and spins the toy between her fingers, the red and yellow blending together as she watches it move in a perfect circle. "I'd do it to teach any cheater a lesson," she says, and Regina berates herself for being so forward.

"It's a week from now," she informs Emma, "and we'd have to collaborate a lot of things if we want to pull this off."

Emma turns to her with a smile, the same easy one that rests on her lips when she's unbothered by anything that Regina seems to throw her way. "Don't worry, we'll have everything sorted out before you know it—but I can't plan mass deceit this late in the evening. The next time you have something exciting like this to share, try calling during office hours."

Laughing, Regina digs around in her happy meal and hands over her fidget spinner to Emma. "Deal," she says, feeling relaxed about the thought of Marian's wedding for the first time since the divorce.