A/N: From fluff to angst. Oops.

Chapter 2

It was eight in the evening and for some mysterious reason, Regina was still there, still sitting at her feet and reading a suspiciously thick book. If Emma gave half a damn, she would check to see what it was about, but all her curiosity had been snuffed out the moment she became a prisoner in her own house (okay, not exactly – but she doesn't like to trifle with technicalities). That and the fact that Regina would slap any part of her that as much as dared to emerge from under the blanket once or twice prevented her from trying to do anything. And made her bored out of her mind. And cold and hot at the same time while minutes felt like years.

Tick-tock, hummed the clock on the wall. Again she tried to steal herself just a little relief and again the brunette slapped her fingers (and man, try doing that when you're wearing a ring – ouch). It was like she had eyes at the back of her head, Emma thought, entirely unamused.

"It's about time. Take this," Regina said, pointing to the bottle filled with thick green fluid swimming inside of it. She never stopped reading the book.

"Hell no. That stuff's deadly," the blonde replied, her voice hoarse and wheezy from all the coughing she'd done.

"I said take it."

Madam Mayor had been a pain in the neck for Emma since the day they met, that much was true, but having her around when Emma was sick made her presence downright unbearable. While normally she might have enjoyed the little tug-o-wars, now, when she was alone in the belly of the beast, felt everything but safe and might have been a little delirious, something inside of her snapped.

"If this is your idea of treatment, it's no wonder Henry hates you."

The whisper was enough to make Regina look up. Emma regretted her words at that very moment as she saw her close the book, lay it gently on the desk and go to Mary's room – and the sad irony in that was that though it felt wrong for her to even exist anywhere near anything that bore Mary's name, Regina still belonged there more than she did by Emma's side.

She wrapped her arms around herself – courtesy of a cold breeze, no doubt – and leaned against the wall. No wonder indeed.

Emma sat up and finally took a closer look at the ragged, frail-looking book. There was a ring of flowers on the front cover. In the middle, it said 'Grimms' Fairy Tales – Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm'.

Fuck this. So they hadn't really hit it off. Maybe Regina had had her arrested once or twice, gotten her fired, tampered with her feelings, made her life a living hell und so weiter und so fort, but besides that, she was still Regina. She was still the mother of her child. And Emma knew she shouldn't feel as guilty as she did but – fuck this. If she wanted to get back at Regina, she could have devised a master plan no one but Madam Mayor could crack and vice versa and they would do so and they would take turns, just like it had always been; like a game of chess. But the disease made her cranky and in her grumpiness, Emma accidentally moved two pawns in one turn. That wasn't exactly fair. Good has to play fair. That's where the name comes from, after all.

Emma tiptoed to the door to Mary's room, opening the door so that there was just enough space for her to see the all powerful Mayor glancing out the window with her back facing the blonde woman. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for and immature, not to mention false." There, all fixed. The pawn is back at B2.

Regina turned around and it felt like the sky was falling. "Immature? Try rude, hurtful and moronic," she shot back, all daggers and no poison – strangely unlike her as far as Emma could tell. And it was okay – she deserved it, she did. Don't talk back. Don't talk back. Don't— "What gives you the right to tell me anything about my parenting skills? You think your ideas are better? You think council meetings and ice cream and horror movies and who knows what else you've got under your bed are the cure? My methods may not always be as orthodox as you would like, Miss Swan, but god help me if I'm not the only fit parent in this room, because you are too self-absorbed to realize that if it weren't for me, they might have had to transport you to the hospital hours ago! Don't you dare lecture me, because if it were Henry, he would be dying by the time you realized something was wrong!"

Tick-tock, the clock wanted to sing, but quickly changed its mind. This was the moment where tumbleweed would stroll inconspicuously across the screen in old Western films from the good cowboy to the bad cowboy, whose hands were so damn close to the revolver's handle a close-up had to follow in order to capture it, fingers twitching, almost reaching for it, but not quite, sweat dripping off the rivals' foreheads, until one of them shoots—

"I knew I was sick. I stayed because I didn't want to disappoint you."

Blimey, cat's out of the bag.

The confession caught Regina off-guard and she stared dumbfounded at the blonde, trying to process the information. No one had ever done anything because they didn't… what did she say again? "Disappoint me?" It had been Regina's move, hadn't it?

The good guy decided to gallop for the hills instead. She was bored of explaining. "Why did you come here?"

"Because you're not well and because you're important."

"To whom?"

"The town."

Emma let out an exasperated sigh and didn't try to conceal how her chest heaved. Surely Madam Mayor knew what she wanted to hear, but like with everything else, was too stubborn and conceited to give it to her for free. "There are thousands of people in Storybrooke, Regina. I doubt everyone considers me valuable here; not to mention there isn't that much to do." Her voice was empty and sullen, almost like a part of her wanted to be sad, but the other couldn't allow it to. She said 'here'. Here, at this moment, 'here' meant anywhere. "Why are you really here? What's your plan?"

Why do you really exist?

"To me. You're valua—" Regina interrupted herself mid-sentence, staring at the carpet. She was going the regret this later. Hell, she regretted it before she even said it. "Important to me. Now go back to bed. It's not going to get any better if you keep this up."

Daggers and poison, that was the real Regina alright. Emma didn't even bother to look at her as she dragged her feet back to the couch – ACHOO! – leaving a bewildered Mayor behind.

She thought this was what Emma wanted to hear, but apparently she was mistaken.