Henry refuses to sleep in the same room as them, no matter how much Regina insists. Emma watches them both like a hawk as they sit on the sofa and argue; it's one of only two pieces of furniture in the room.
"Henry, it's important that we know you're safe."
"I want my own space," he says, obstinate to a fault. Regina would call that fault genetic, while Emma's pretty sure it's learned behavior.
"The door is triple-locked," Emma points out. "He'll be fine here on the couch, won't you kid?"
Even as she says it, risking Regina's wrath, Emma knows she'll sleep as lightly as ever, checking the kid and the locks as often as she can get away with. This is just a first step, no guarantees.
Henry pulls out his sleeping bag to make the point, and Regina, in her robe and with a towel wrapped around her hair like it's just a regular evening at home, relents. She gets up and motions with her head towards the bedroom.
"Goodnight, Henry," Regina says gently, pulling him in for a hug even as he struggles with the sleeping bag. He squirms a little but accepts a kiss on top of his head. Emma follows up by ruffling his hair on the way past.
"Goodnight," she adds. "You come and wake us if anything seems weird, okay? Anything, Henry."
"Yeah," he says, rummaging now for his pajamas. "Whatever you say, Moms."
Henry thinks that's adorable, calling them 'Moms'. Emma's inclined to agree, but not when he sounds so exasperated. She smiles at him before entering the bedroom, where Regina is already unpacking and folding their clothes into drawers.
"Hey," Emma warns. "We don't know how permanent this is, yet."
"That's no reason for everything I own to be creased," Regina snaps, but there's color in her cheeks again, maybe from the hot water, and she's not the monosyllabic wreck she was on the flight. These days, Emma's learning to count her blessings.
"You need a hand?" Emma asks.
"No," Regina says, firmly. "But you need a shower."
"Aye, aye captain," Emma says, finishing off with a mock salute. She kicks off her boots and strips her clothes as she walks, leaving a trail of dirty laundry just to annoy Regina. A little bit of normalcy will go a long way, Emma hopes.
The shower is a good one, and as she steps under the spray Emma thinks she can finally feel the last traces of soot and smoke being rinsed away. She closes her eyes as the jasmine shampoo runs over her face, trying not to think of the broken town they left behind. It still hurts, Emma thinks, to know that everyone has gone on without her. The first family she ever knew, jerked back to an unbelievable land by the breaking of a curse.
Only Emma (because she was never touched by the curse, much like Henry), Regina (who cast it) and Gold (who apparently created it, but Regina won't be drawn on the subject) were left behind in the ruins of Storybrooke. Gold, furious that the curse had been broken, had promised to kill Regina—to kill them all. Emma had knocked him out and bought them just enough time to run, but there's no way of knowing how far behind he might be.
She shuts off the water once it starts to run a little cold, and steps back into the bedroom wrapped in fluffy red towels.
"See?" She says to Regina. "Clean enough for you, your Majesty?"
Regina's face darkens with a scowl. Okay, still too early for that, Emma notes.
"He's asleep," Regina says after a moment, nodding at the now-closed bedroom door. "Two pages of his comic and out like a light."
"Good," Emma says, her eyes raking up Regina's bare legs as she lounges on the double bed. She's managed to unearth a plate and a sharp knife, slicing up a couple of apples for an impromptu snack. Two glasses filled to brimming with ice and water sit on coasters on the beside table, and the thought of Kalinda even owning coasters strikes Emma as pretty hilarious.
"Comfortable?" She asks, with just the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Regina has that infuriating ability to look like she belongs anywhere; maybe it's because she's royalty, Emma thinks.
"It's fine," Regina says, with a shrug. She pops a slice of apple between her lips, biting down and drawing Emma's attention to her mouth. "Once I moved that hammer, anyway."
Emma looks behind her, at the sledgehammer propped against the wall. She supposes it explains the plaster damage underneath the room's giant mirror, and if Kalinda is anything like she used to be that won't be her only hiding place in this sparse little apartment.
"Can't hurt to have another weapon lying around," Emma says quietly, looking at her own holstered gun on the floor and the knife by Regina's side. "We should consider stocking up."
"He won't have an army," Regina points out, reaching for another piece of apple. Emma steps closer, reaches for her own piece before chewing on it thoughtfully.
"No," Emma agrees, crawling onto the bed on her hands and knees. Regina's black silk robe isn't covering much of anything, and Emma's far too tempted after three days with nothing more than a few frantic kisses in the now abandoned Bug, and in the bathrooms at Logan. She worried, of course, that because their relationship shattered the curse, Regina might not wish to continue it. Emma is fairly sure that she shouldn't want to continue it either, but she's had problems walking away from Regina from the first time she laid eyes on her, and nothing about that seems to have changed.
"Something you wanted?" Regina drawls, lazy and almost content. It's like none of this is really happening, for a moment; it's like they're not running for their lives.
"Uh huh," Emma says, nodding as she reaches for the loose knot of Regina's robe