Regina

Regina, much to her dismay, was dumbstruck. And still, Emma and the cruiser pulled away.

"I should have you flayed." She spoke quietly, between clenched teeth, through tightening lips. Dark eyes looked after the car long after it disappeared.

You… insufferable jackass.

Regina tried to still her pounding heart through sheer will, and as her chest continued to heave, and nostrils flair, she felt nothing as pronounced as a profound disappointment in herself.

Finally, she unclenched everything, closed her eyes and rolled her head slowly on her shoulders. How disheartening. What Regina had begun to label as "it" was still there. Again. Always again. In anticipation of just such confrontations, in Regina's head, each time, she imagined things would be so very different than they actually proved to be. She convinced herself of her power, her indomitable, regal presence that could not and would not be questioned. She reassured herself that nothing Emma would say would move her. Not this time. Nothing would make her flinch, not twitch, not even breathe. But, no.

It was always there, rising faster than she could stop it, an irritation that made her quake within, and bridle at whatever next words Emma spoke. It didn't remotely matter what those words were. This interloper could recite a recipe for soup and it would summarily draw Regina's hackles to ridiculous heights.

Emma pushed Regina's buttons.

As Regina made her way back into her house, preparing to deal with Henry and whatever ruin this most recent conflict with his regrettable birthmother had wrought, she was equally desperate to ignore that other little niggle-the rest of the "it."

The push, push at her spine, low and tingling. The fact that parts of her… whole, vast, inappropriate parts of her wanted to smile and applaud and laugh with careless glee at the audacity of this bail bondswoman (?!) who had entered her life all hair and teeth and denim and Did. Not. Blink. No matter how Regina threatened, what she invoked, where she looked, invaded, or imposed herself, Emma simply took it, and gave it back on par. Regina's dire promises impacted Emma like crisp browned leaves blowing against a silver shield of steel. It was

Delicious. Enticing. Thrilling.

And really fucking irritating.

Regina was beyond done with letting this disaster, this storm named Emma ruin her day. Her month. Her world. She'd figure out how to rid herself of this pest before the week was out. The Festival of Wings was coming. It used to be Henry's favorite holiday. He'd mark the calendar and insist on a daily countdown, sometimes months in advance.

Regina wanted that again, wanted him to share that excitement, about anything, with her, and she had been planning such an extravagant festival, like nothing Storybrooke had ever seen. As Regina shut the front door behind her, she stared up to her son's room. If she was right, he'd already shimmied out the window, and was lumbering along to school, probably flagging down Emma, or Mary Margaret for a ride.

They had changed him. That infernal book had changed him. Emma's very existence had changed him. Regina wanted him back and if she could just get Henry interested again, the festival might just change him once more, back to the son she knew loved her. As least a little.

A knock.

Who could possibly…

Regina turned again, and opened the door, irritation and impatience still radiating from her, though it dissipated a touch at the sight of a diminutive man at her doorstep. Not much taller than Leroy, probably. He had thin, red hair, unkempt, his face freckled, his eyes a soft and, frankly unsettling grey. He carried a leather satchel and Regina imagined he'd soon be tongue-tied.

"Yes?"

"Madame Mayor?"

"What is it? Do I know you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Rudy. Rudy Vega. I'm an attorney. Next to the auto shop?" With each sentence, he appeared to get more nervous, until he squeaked out, "I have an office."

Regina's eyes narrowed and her brows slid together. She knew everyone. Everything. She didn't know him.

"Who ARE you?" Her voice rose in volume and dropped in timbre.

"I'm here…" He swallowed and beads of sweat dusted his lip. "…about the case against Mary Margaret Blanchard."

"What's that?" Regina's eyebrow repositioned themselves, her eyes opened wide. Now. This was different. "What case?"

Rudy Vega leaned in a bit and spoke with discretion. "The complaints, Mayor? They've reached, um, a minimum volume for you to, well, to take action against Miss Blanchard."

"The complain…"

Rudy Vega cleared his slender throat. "Um, yes. I believe you're familiar with…" He awkwardly balanced the satchel on his thigh, opened it and pulled a volume of papers from within. "These complaints on her teaching abilities, her promptness, her availability for conference, her… I believe you wrote them? Yourself. All of them."

Regina smiled. "Yes."

"And the town charter expressly states that you can fire anyone in either public or private employ for being written up this number of… I'm sorry, I have the exact wording in here somewhere…" Rudy Vega transferred the paper stack to his other hand, digging deeper into the satchel for another item. Everything he held appeared precariously close to dropping and scattering forever into the breeze…

"Why don't you come inside?" Regina suggested with a cold grin, fondly remembering that little gem in the charter she'd known would come in handy one day.

"Oh, yes, thank you." Rudy Vega gathered satchel and paper to his chest and stepped over Regina's threshold as the door closed behind him.

Not a single second passed, not a whisper of time, before the satchel he carried gaped wide and from inside a thick, tremendous rush of wind and power exploded against Regina.

SMACK!

The force of impact sent her body clear across the foyer, her back crashing into the far wall in a rain of rage and plaster. As Regina struggled to lift herself up, she fixed a defiant glare on the force before her, and again her body was swept up, this time in a crushing grip, thrashed about with as much effort as a tiger tossing a rag doll, before she was unceremoniously slammed to the floor. She wheezed out,

fuck

Her only available weapon, her anger at her own helplessness, against this whatever

the hell

propelled her to again try and stare the thing down, but the results were the same, again and again. Regina's mere human form could do nothing to stop this supernatural onslaught, and with each battering of her flesh, the thing seemed to grow larger, rage more violently, until Regina was still, crumpled and bent in a corner.

oh.

Regina was scared.

And then there was silence.

She heard… nothing. But Regina could see. Her eyes, she knew, were shut against the demon, the monster, the warlock, whatever… her eyes were too beaten to open, and yet, she could see. She could see a white tank top and waves of lush, blonde hair. She saw strong shoulders moving rhythmically in the white, a field of green ahead. She saw long legs climbing, a dirt trail, arms damp with sweat, moving in time. She saw

Emma.

"Turn around."

Regina didn't know if she'd spoken aloud. She hadn't wanted to. Emma, of all people. Didn't mean to. What good would it do? Didn't want to re-awaken the demon she could feel was close, now prowling. Was it resting, regenerating, there, between her and her door? It had morphed somehow. She could feel that. Become something dense. Something solid.

Still, Regina saw Emma. She saw everything, as though she was a mere breath behind the woman, could feel Emma, feel her with a startling nearness, feel her softness, the heat rolling out of her warmed muscles, could feel Emma's power sliding onto her, over her. Impossibly, she felt Emma's body and it stirred Regina as deeply, as powerfully as if they were lying entwined, and perfectly, blissfully whole.

Impossibly, though, it was, for Regina was practically in pieces on her foyer floor.

The monster was moving.

get a fucking grip.

Regina heard a dozen legs dragging along the tiled floor, tried to track the direction of too many threats, too much energy, all of it directed, she guessed, at her unequivocal and brutal destruction.

Through the fear and in spite of the pain of bones she knew were broken, Regina searched for a plan. Or what? Was she, helpless and alone, at the mercy of this unfathomable evil, destined to die right here? Stuck, solitary, pitiful in her 'happy ending?' She tried to open her eyes, and was met with only a disquieting red haze that wrenched a tremulous sob from her throat.

There must be something she could do, someone else who could help, someone who would come for her. Care if she cried out. Henry.

no.

There was no one. Not one other soul.

Regina shut her eyes tightly.

Emma.

Regina recognized the view, from the top of Mt. Diablo. She recognized the canopy of deepest green as she and Emma were gazing upwards together, watching the effortless flight of a hawk before she felt Emma's eyelids shut.

"Turn around. Please!"

Regina heard the breathless urgency in her voice. She was ashamed. She heard the shuffle of the monster, its breath on her cheek.

Regina began to weep.

As the tentacles of the demon wrapped themselves around her, it's hairs and scales scraped away great swaths of skin and Regina bit back the sounds of agony that vibrated in her. She tried to squirm, tried to move, tried to fight.

She saw Emma. Saw the stretch of the horizon in front of them, knew that Emma was looking out, out into the possibility and the promise of leaving Storybrooke forever.

Exactly what Regina had wanted.

The monster squeezed.

"EMMA! Help me!"

Emma

The Mayor's mansion looked still and silent. The door shut tight. Emma exited the cruiser, leaving the door hanging open. Quickly she rounded the car and made her way up the walk, gun low, safety off. She tucked herself behind hedges, trees, pillars as she made her way closer, listening intently but hearing nothing except the blood rushing in her ears.

And a small whimper. Far enough from the door.

So Emma kicked the door down.

For several beats she couldn't fathom what met her eyes. While the mansion had been pristine and untouched without, inside it resembled nothing if not the aftermath of a detonation. The stairway was ripped in two, bricks, wood scattered everywhere. Broken glass that had once been Regina's chandelier littered the ground. From what was left of the floor, to what was left of the ceiling, all was charred, dismantled, devastated.

In the back, tucked into a tiny corner,

Regina

Emma felt the fear swell in her gut as she saw how badly Regina was hurt. She lowered her gun and took a step forward as movement from the opposite corner caught her eye.

She fired. Six shots at the huge, hoary beast, all legs and teeth and eyes of blazing hate.

Regina whimpered again.

The monster kept coming, the bullets useless. It crouched to leap at Emma.

Emma threw her gun to the ground and crouched, too.

As Emma left the floor, as her body sailed through the air, as she entered the perimeter of space where Regina lay broken, Emma, as simply as you read this, turned into an immense and angry lion. A lion that silently landed on all four feet.

Emma the lion stood between Regina and the monster,

And roared.