A/N: Thank you so much for lovely reviews! They really motivate me, so please, keep them coming!

I'm sorry for such a late update, but recently I am so busy that I barely find time to write one page a day. I'll try to make another update sooner. For now, I hope you will enjoy chapter 2!

„First of all we have to establish some rules." It was the very first sentence she said since she had let him into her car few minutes before.

"I'm listening," he answered, installing his hook on its place and then observing the interior of the vehicle.

"I sincerely doubt it," she sniffed, vouchsafing him with one quick glance.

"Fine, I am all ears now," he murmured, crossing his arms and looking at her almost demandingly.

She didn't need much time to create the rules.

"First, we won't talk about Henry or anything that happened in Neverland." She looked at him expectantly, waiting for any reaction. He nodded.

"Understood," he said and even though she did her best to find sarcasm in his voice she failed. Maybe it was hidden so well it became undetectable.

"Second, you won't try to flirt with me or suggest anything ambiguous."

"Understood." The wild smile that appeared on his lips indicated something completely different. She couldn't help but rolled her eyes.

"Third, you will listen to what I am saying and if I ask you to do something you do it, and not exactly the opposite thing."

"Let's say..." he started, but she didn't give him time to finish.

"No 'let's say'. 'Understood' or get out."

He gave her a dark look, then faked a smile.

"Of course, your Majesty." This time sarcasm was definitely there. "Understood".

"Good. Fourth, you won't touch anything of mine or anything electronic at all without permission."

"Permission?" His voice was filled with unpleasant surprise. "I am not your prisoner."

"Did I finish? No. It's not your time to talk." She didn't even have to look at him to notice he stiffened. Maybe she moved too far. "You are not my prisoner, but it's for your own sake. Knowing you, you would be tempted to press everything that is bright red and says 'do not touch'."

"I didn't realise you know me so well," he snickered.

"Well, I know you better than you think," she answered, not letting her eyes off the road.

"Vice versa, darling." He confused her with this replay, but she decided to keep her thoughts on the right track.

"So...?"

"Understood."

She had few additional things on her mind, but decided to keep them to herself. 'Not talking so often as you use to' was a little bit too much for already tensed atmosphere.

"I will also be grateful if you wouldn't embarrass me in public," she ended, adding a little smile to those words.

"Maybe I should go straight to the monastery, they would have a little less strict rules," he joked, but the atmosphere got a little bit less intense.

"They aren't strict, they are just... necessary precautions, in case you would like to do something stupid, which you do all the time," she said lightly, prolonging the smile. Muscles that were responsible for creating such a grimace seemed to be a little bit sore after not being used for such a long time. "And in case you didn't notice I would like to remind you that you had suicidal tendencies before as well."

"I did?" His interest suddenly rose. He turned on his seat and leant his back against the door, sitting edgeways. "When exactly?"

"There are many examples, but most convincing one was when you shot Belle," she laughed at the memory. "If this car didn't hit you, you would be dead in a blink of an eye."

"Good to know you remember so many facts from my life," he said with an all-knowing smile.

"I just remembered that because it was one of the most stupid things I have ever seen," she retorted quickly and came back to the rules. "So...?" She repeated again and he took the hint.

"Understood," he said for the one last time.

"Good." She smiled victoriously and payed an attention to the road until he spoke again few seconds later.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are aware of the fact I won't obey any of these rules, aren't you?"

At first she wasn't sure of how to answer. Kick him out of the car, threaten him that he doesn't have a choice or simply ignore what he had just said? First two options would involve the very quick termination of their not even fully established deal. It was too early for that. It was supposed to be an attempt for a good deed and what had happened so far didn't deserve such a title. She also couldn't behave like he hadn't said anything, it wasn't like her. Eventually she chose honesty.

"Yes, I am." She sighed and shook her head with resignation. "Just don't make me regret this so soon."

"That's something I can do," he laughed slightly and looked through the window. "But, you know, obeying isn't just in my nature. I am a pirate, remember? We don't go by the rules," he added with stating-the-obvious tone.

"We," she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue. It sounded strange. Very strange. "It sounds good. But there is no 'we' anymore." She looked at him inquiringly, waiting for his reaction. His expression changed darker, but he faced the window again before she could read anything from his look.

"There was. Once," he said slowly with a serious tone, indicating the end of this conversation.

She didn't know what he exactly meant – a crew he had had once on 'Jolly Roger' and had lost them or his dead one true love, Milah. Maybe he was referring to both of these things. Things that had warmed his heart a long time ago until they had been gone. She felt a sudden wave of connection with the man sitting next to her, but she nipped it in the bud.

They stayed silent for a moment until she had to change the gears, which caught his attention.

"How does it work exactly?" he asked with curiosity.

"What, the car?" She didn't have to request the answer, but for some reason it brought a little smile to her lips. Was it the beginning of the stream of questions she was expecting? It was soon. Maybe he would ask her everything he would like to know in the matter of hours or days and he will need her no more, so she would be able to leave him on his own quicker than she thought. She couldn't decide whether it would be a good or a bad thing.

"That is... quite a strange vessel," he commented, looking around with inquisitiveness and disgust. He tilted his head like a curious animal from a zoo and looked at the button that was opening the glove compartment for few seconds before eventually using it.

"That is something of mine," she snapped, closing it quickly and almost pinching his fingers. "I will explain to you how it works as long as you don't break anything."

He narrowed his eyes and watched her for a moment.

"Deal," he said finally and seated himself more comfortably.

She sighed and reluctantly started the story about cars. She was no expert on them, but she was quite sure her knowledge would be enough for someone who had no clue about vehicles, electronics or laws of physics. She remembered the moment she herself had had to learn a lot about this world. It hadn't been easy, especially considering she had had no guide, either in person or in printed form. No one had written 'The Manual of Earth for People in Their Thirties that Has Never Been There Before' yet. But she had had a lot of time to learn and plenty of opportunities to make mistakes. Twenty eight years of identical days had been a perfect possibility to get to know everything, especially when no one had remembered what she had been doing the day before. That had been the case until the moment she had got Henry, of course.

No, no, no. Bad area of thoughts. She had to focus on the current situation and the story she was telling. That was the best way to pretend she was fine.

There were few seconds of silence again after she finished her story. Hook was apparently digesting what he had just heard.

"So basically they are younger than me," he stated eventually.

"Yes," she said slowly, frowning. "Is that the only thing you noticed?"

"The rest wasn't interesting." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "It's not like I would ever drive it. It would be a profanation of real means of transportation."

"But they come in handy," she decided to defend cars. She liked them. "They are efficient, quick, quite easy to learn, small and portable. They don't need animals, wind or water to move, they are simply independent."

"But they need road and this fuel thing," he retorted. So he was listening to her quite carefully after all.

"Point taken," she admitted, but didn't give up. "Besides that and the environmental damage they are quite flawless."

"The environment is crucial for our well-being, so it is quite a flaw," he claimed with a victorious smile. She felt the sudden conviction that with such an attitude he would never be a fan of this type of moving vehicles. "It is also too unfamiliar. Hostile."

"My car is hostile?" she asked with disbelief. He was fearless enough to plot with Cora and dedicate his life to killing Rumplestiltskin, but he thought cars emanated enmity? She sighed mentally – there was a lot of work for her to do to make him competent enough to survive here on his own.

"Yes, it resembles a cage. And I definitely do not like cages." He was silent for a moment, then corrected his own words with a mischievous smile. "As long as I am locked up in them with no companionship."

She looked at him briefly with disgust.

"I get the picture," she said quickly to stop him from going into explicit details.

They were silent for a moment again when he returned to the abandoned topic.

"They aren't quick enough though. There is a quicker means of transport available in any moment, I am sure you are deeply aware of that fact." He sounded like he missed his ship. She shouldn't be surprised. 'Jolly Roger' seemed to be the closest thing to home he had ever had. But longing something that had no real use here was useless. It had to change. Immediately.

"Sure, because traveling on a magical ship would definitely help you to blend in," she sniffed, pushing back the thought of the mentioned vessel. There was no single positive memory of 'Jolly Roger' in her mind. She didn't want to have it in her thoughts and definitely didn't desire to be forced to look at it once more. Her adventure with the magical ship was over and no one would ever be able to make her set her foot on its board again.

"Why not? Women love pirates," he stated with a naughty expression. She puffed, irritated.

"In twenty first century? I really doubt it. But if you have such low standards, I am sure you will find a counterpart of an eighteenth-century tavern-ish whore somewhere in a city. If that would satisfy you, I don't see the point of continuing our deal." She said it in a serious tone, speaking truthfully. If that would be sufficient for him she would just leave him in a nearest city with the harbor.

"Jealous, are we?" This smirk of his already drove her crazy. It didn't look good considering the future 'lessons of life' ahead of them.

"In your dreams, captain," she snapped. He seemed satisfied with her answer, because his expression didn't change.

"So... where are we going exactly?" he asked a moment later. She sighed. Couldn't he stand the silence for a period of time longer than a minute?

"Would it make any difference if I tell you the name of our destination?" He wouldn't know where or what it was anyways. The only city except Storybrooke that could ring a bell was New York, but they weren't going there. In fact, she didn't really know where they were heading, she just didn't want to admit to it. It won't matter if they would arrive in New Jersey, Chicago or Seattle. They just needed a city. Or a town. Whatever.

She still couldn't make herself care about any destination. Driving was a value itself.

He watched her carefully for a second and she was quite sure he knew their destination could be classified as 'unknown', but he didn't comment on that. She was grateful for that, because otherwise they would inevitably ended up having a discussion about Henry. She wasn't prepared for that and neither she would ever be.

"No," he answered finally. "What for are we going there? If the answer is not classified as a 'mystery' I think I should know that."

"We have to dress you properly," she said without second thoughts. He nodded.

"I guess I shall undress by myself," he replied matter-of-factly. She smirked. He found an interesting way to obey the second rule without really obeying it.

"Yes, you shall."

In the morning they arrived in Pittsburgh. The city was already awake: traffic ruling the streets and crowded pavements greeted them cheerfully. Everything looked unfamiliar here. The driver and her passenger were looking through the wind screen with curiosity and untamed wonder. Skyscrapers, shopping malls, traffic, it all surprised them. Regina didn't want him to know she in fact was no expert when it came to big cities, so she put on the mask of immovability. During 17 years spent alone in Storybrooke she had made few escapades, but it hadn't been enough to feel the wave, pace and specific atmosphere of metropolis. She loved them, their splendor, opportunities and life, but always had a strong hunch she was just an intruder there without any possibility of finding home in such cities. She didn't belong to them. Back then she had belonged to Storybrooke. Now... Now she didn't belong anywhere.

"That's nothing impressive," he commented. She looked at him and realised he really wasn't impressed. "How can people breathe in such a chaos? There is no water, no space, no... anything."

"It only looks chaotic, in fact it's organized and well planned," she explained, looking around tentatively. She decided she wouldn't go with him to the shopping mall, because it would probably end with a complete humiliation and embarrassment, but to some boutique near a road. She just had to find an appropriate one.

"A little hard to believe," he replied as his eyes followed a red convertible with a bunch of screaming youngsters inside.

Few streets and traffic jams further Regina parked the car near some long and one-storey passage of boutiques. After turning off the engine she looked at her passenger expectantly.

"What?" he asked, immediately turning defensive.

"Your hook," she said and looked at the mentioned thing meaningfully. "You can't parade with it publicly."

He glanced at the extension of his left arm for a moment, then sighed heavily and uninstalled it, stroking it almost tenderly. She was still looking at him meaningfully. After a second he took a hint and removed also the basic that held the hook. He watched the sleeve of his coat flop over the stump of his hand.

"I feel naked without it," he murmured and hid the hook in the locker without her consent. She grimaced, but didn't comment on his behavior. She knew reprimanding him would do nothing. Hook and asking for permission? She was quite sure it will never happen. She might as well get used to it. Good his sword had already disappeared somewhere, because she had a serious hunch it wouldn't be easy to convince him to leave it behind.

"That shouldn't bother you, should it?" she teased.

"Only with another person of an opposite sex naked with me. Unless you are intending to take off these clothes, I won't feel comfortably this time," he precised.

She sent him a faked sweet smile. "Forget it."

"One can always dream." He shrugged with a wink. "Are we going out or waiting for some kind of an invitation?"

She opened the door as an answer and left the car. It was hot outside, but not as stuffy as the other day. Boutiques tempted with richly set up store windows, banners with bright inscriptions saying 'sale' or singboards with names of well-known brands. She looked at them for a while, trying to choose the right one and ultimately selected the middle one. Hook followed her as she entered the shop. There were no customers inside, maybe because of an early hour or quite high prices. For a moment she thought about choosing a cheaper shop – she was the one with a credit card, so she would ante up – but decided not to retreat. She felt like he was her responsibility now, so she had to do everything right. Maybe she just needed to have someone to take care of. Looking after a two-hundred-year-old pirate sounded a little bit ridiculous, but since she had lost the other one many things sounded this way.

The other one. It was the sign to stop thinking.

The young woman who had to be a shop assistant approached her and smiled, too sweetly for Regina's taste.

"How can I help you, ma'am?" the woman asked, folding her hands together.

She had to be in her late twenties. Blonde hair curled around her thin oval face, emerald big eyes looked at them with naivety, short skirt exposed slim, long legs. She was pretty. Very pretty. Hook's eyes lightened. Seeing he was already opening his mouth to speak, Regina quickly said, "Yes, we are here to dress..." She cast her companion a quick look. How should have she called him? 'This man' would sound too official considering she was about to pay for his new clothing. 'Hook' didn't seem appropriate to use in a shop with such high standards. She wasn't sure if she correctly remembered his real name – she had only heard it once when she had been doing some research about him when she had needed him. She had no idea how to address him in public. "...him," she finished lamely, feeling internally insecure and ashamed.

The woman shifted her attention from Regina to Hook. He gifted her with a wide grin.

"Hello, darling," he said, looking at her quite impudently. The assistant smiled back at him a little bit weakly, then examined his appearance more carefully. Her expression was changing gradually with every second. Eventually there was no sign of a smile and only a deep frown on her forehead.

"I found him after a costume party." Regina hastened with explanation. She had been good at lying, maybe it would work this time as well. "Completely drunk, not knowing where he left his car and home keys, not to mention some decent clothes. You know, he has to show up at work today. Can you imagine what would happen if I brought him with such an outfit?"

She was trying really hard to say all of that light-heartedly and naturally, ending her speech with a little laugh. Hook looked at her gloomily, but didn't comment. Arguing would bring them both nothing good.

"Oh yes, I can," the woman laughed too, but still didn't look comfortable with the situation. "So you two work together?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, we... we are colleagues from work." Regina nodded. Hook's expression turned even darker. "He is no freak or a pervert if that's what you are afraid of." It could be the biggest lie she had said this day, but she didn't hesitate. She had to refrain from laughing when she caught a glimpse of his face. If stares could kill, she would definitely be dead by now.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm just..." The woman paused for a moment, then continued with definitely lighter tone. "Our customers usually don't show up dressed up as... pirates, that's all."

"Yeah, he has a thing for pirates," Regina smiled and turned her back on Hook, because she was quite sure that she wouldn't stop laughing the moment she would see his face and their cover will blow up.

The assistant smiled politely with understanding and asked, turning her attention to Hook once more, "What are you looking for, sir, something more casual or typical for the office?"

"Casual," he murmured, his teeth tight clenched, muscles tensed and flinching. He apparently wasn't enjoying the situation.

The woman addressed Regina again, "Why don't you sit there and wait for a moment, ma'am?" She pointed to a couch standing in front of a fitting room. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"No, thank you." Regina smiled in acknowledgment and made one step toward the couch. She didn't think leaving Hook on his own for even a second could be a good idea.

"Just tell me your size and I will be back with some clothing for you in a moment, sir," the woman said officially to Hook. He winked.

"Size..." he repeated slowly, thinking about the right answer. His eyes involuntarily found Regina's. "Whatever..."

"I'm afraid my colleague is still a little bit drunk," she cut off, coming to his aid. "Just pick whatever you would find appropriate, okay?" She grabbed Hook's arm and pulled him a little towards the fitting room. He didn't resist, although she could feel his muscles tense even more. "Please."

"Sure thing." If the woman was confused, she was good at covering it. She smiled and got out of their sight, disappearing amidst the coat hangers.

In the meantime Regina managed to place Hook where he was supposed to be and retreated to the couch. He didn't move though, watching her with narrowed eyes and angry stares.

"What?" she asked demandingly. "Is something wrong?"

"Something?" He raised his eyebrows and snuffed. "I don't mind trickery and a bit of costume play, but 'freak', 'pervert' and 'dressed up as a pirate' in one dialogue directed to me is just offensive. 'Drunk pirate' would be so much more welcome."

"You may want to hide your pride and dignity for a little while if you don't intend to hear 'dressed up as a pirate' every single time someone passes you on the street," she commented, seating herself more comfortably.

"My pride and dignity have already went for a walk the moment we entered this caricature of a shop," he snorted, looking around with contempt. "What is this structure?"

"It's a fitting room or, in other words, the place where people try on clothes they are interested in purchasing," she explained, watching his disgust with slight amusement. "We had such things back in our world, remember?" She thought about tailors' workplaces where Cora had been ordering special dresses for her and the curtains back there that had separated the place appropriate for trying clothes on from the rest of the workshop. It hadn't been so different from what they were experiencing now.

"Back in your world of indecently wealthy upper social class whose members' only concern was how far they were in the line of succession and who to hire to kill those who were standing in a way? Of course, your Majesty." He smirked and faked a curtsey. There was sarcasm, mockery and bitterness at once in his voice. For some unknown reason it hurt her. He had no idea how deeply he was wrong. She might have been a princess a long time ago, but she still had been a miller's granddaughter. The world of her childhood hadn't consisted of richness, airiness and freedom. On the contrary, it had been the time of constant humiliation, imprisonment and dealing with obstacles she couldn't have defeated. Royal blood was flowing in her veins, but it hadn't made her life easier. She even thought this regal element in her had destroyed her existence. Back in her own world her pride and inner feeling of supremacy would have boiled after merely a thought of comparing her status to the pirate's one. The remains of that pride were still present, but they weren't outraged by this comparison that took place deep in her mind. She knew nothing about his childhood, but she suspected it hadn't been a bed of roses if he had chosen the life of a pirate. She would never say it aloud, but they couldn't be such different people as he seemed to believe.

On second thoughts she thought he should have known that her childhood couldn't have been easy, having spent with Cora so much time. But well, he had never been Cora's child. He couldn't know what it was like and he will never know.

"Yes, back in this world," she said coldly, letting her pride create a superior smile on her lips.

Their conversation ended this way, because the shop assistant came back with some clothes. Hook leant against the wall of the fitting room and waited for her to approach with an alluring smile. The woman blushed and left the clothes on the hangers, aborting the idea of saying something. She smiled at Regina and quickly walked away. His glance followed her until she could no longer be seen.

Regina cleared her throat impatiently. "I believe you won't need a helping hand." Her eyes landed on his left arm.

He looked at her darkly. "I genuinely appreciate your concern, but I asked you to be my governess, not a nanny." With those words he stepped back and abruptly pulled the curtains.

She inhaled a deep breath. He had to be really discomposed if he didn't even say anything with the erotic subtext. She seemed to be quite talented in getting him out of control. It could be a useful thing in the Enchanted Forest with a relation queen-servant that she thought had been between them, but not now, when she was no longer his queen and he was no longer her subject - if he had ever even been one, which in fact was quite doubtful.

She sighed and leant her head on the headrest. Twice in one day the atmosphere got so thick it could be cut with a knife. In the Enchanted Forest such a situation would have never bothered her, but here and in the current condition of her mind she needed to choose between two possible options and follow the chosen path. She had to decide whether she wanted them to be on the edge of the knife all the time and separate ways as soon as possible or to spend this time in amicable contacts, so they wouldn't desire to jump to each other's throats once a day or an hour.

In the stillness of the shop she finally had time to think. With him in the car she hadn't had a single opportunity to process anything, even her own problems. He was that kind of a passenger that required full attention. She had had to have her eyes all over her head so that he wouldn't touch anything he wasn't supposed to and constantly be involved in a conversation, because he just couldn't stay quiet. She smiled lightly. It was quite amusing actually. Moreover, as long as her whole brain had been focused on the chat and his untamed curiosity she could have pretended everything was fine. As long as they had been engaged in a conversation, that is. A brief moment of silence and the pain had been coming back instantaneously.

An easy conclusion could be drawn from this. She needed a good company. It was essential to stop the pain even for few seconds.

Companionship. She had really thought she hadn't needed one. She had learned how to be independent, how to live on her own. She had got used to it dreadfully quickly. There was a thing about loneliness - people could think they understood it well until it struck them back. There was a way to get accustomed to being alone, but it was impossible to stop those moments when isolation hurt like hell. And they always came, no matter how high walls were built to stop them. Every tame could be broken. Not every flood could be stopped.

The companionship was good for loneliness and for stopping the pain. But it had to be a friendly one, because hostility didn't work. She decided.

"I'm sorry," she said loudly enough for him to hear. It had never been easy for her to apologize or to stand corrected. 'Sorry' wasn't a word she had used to exploit. "I should have guessed your hand can be a touchy subject."

"I am not a woman, my dear, I don't have touchy subjects," he answered from behind the curtain. She started to wonder if she had ever really got under his skin or maybe it had simply been different flings of his mood.

"Good," she commented certainly, though she was feeling rather uncertainly.

A moment later he pulled the curtains away and stood with his arms crossed on his chest.

"Do I look like a twenty-first-century American man now?" he asked and raised his eyebrows.

She stood up and scrutinized his appearance thoroughly. He was wearing a grey short sleeve shirt, a dark vest and ragged jeans accompanied by black trainers that she had no idea where had come from. In this outfit his lack of hand was more visible than ever. Her gaze followed down his left arm. A shadow flashed through his face. It was gone quicker than it appeared, but she managed to understand it – he didn't feel quite comfortable with his disability being so exposed for people's eyes even though he would never admit it. She quickly looked away and stepped back a little.

"Satisfied?" She almost forgot he was waiting for an answer. She crossed her arms on her chest and looked at him again, this time with an eye of a professional. He looked like a twenty-first-century American man now. And he looked good. In fact, he looked more than good. She had always considered him handsome, but something changed now. Without the blackness of his usual clothing his dark hair contrasted with his skin more than ever. His blue eyes seemed to shine in comparison to the azure of the new jeans. She had never seen him lacking long sleeves before. He was more muscled than she could have thought. Even in normal, casual clothes his appearance was alluring in its own unique way and his witty, mischievous nature apparently couldn't be hidden by such a bagatelle as a costume.

She lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Yes," she answered with a proud smile. It was always better to have a good-looking companion than an unappealing one. "Try the other ones on."

She returned to the couch followed by his watchful gaze and wicked smile. She didn't manage to comment on that before he pulled the curtains again.

The next hour passed in a similar way and every minute made her more amused. The situation was so surreal it was almost ridiculous – two villains of the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke on the clothing hunt in Pensylvania. If anyone had suggested something like that to her even a year ago she would have laughed in their faces. And now here they were: just like normal colleagues from work they pretended to be, buying garments. He had been right, she really didn't want to miss such hilarious situations like this one.

Only after Hook's experience as a model was done did she realise she felt different for the entire last hour. In the car her pain had been coming back in every moment of silence and even when it hadn't been present, she had only pretended to be fine without believing it could ever be possible again. This time... this time the pain didn't come back in moments of silence. This time she wasn't pretending. For a little while there were no traces of misery, pain or grief in her mind. Although she felt dreadfully guilty about it, it seemed to lift a heavy burden from her shoulders, a burden that had pinned her down so deeply she had lost the knowledge there was any sky above. During the last hour, for the first time in over a month she was able to breathe again. For the first time she believed she could be fine once more. Free from pain. This release wouldn't happen in a day, a month or even a year of course. It would be a very long process, lasting years. But there was hope, a little light in the tunnel she hadn't seen before.

Funny how such a trivial thing like shopping could change perspectives. She smiled to herself as her fingers mechanically reached the bracelet on her right wrist. There was a little scroll of burnt paper inside. It was one of two parts that remained from Henry's fairy tale book. Emma had the other part. Miss Swan had been on her own road to regain happiness. She had to go in Emma's footsteps this one single time.

She heard curtains being pulled away, which broke her thoughtfulness.

"Ready?" she asked, raising royally from the couch. The woman from the service had visited them few times during the last hour, asking whether she had picked appropriate clothing and size and taking what Regina had chosen - without requesting his approval - to the cash, so now he was able to put on what had already been billed before leaving the shop. When he left the fitting room, he had the first outfit on.

"As you can see, my queen." This sarcasm was again in his voice. She looked at him with a grimace. Yes, she might have been ordering him few things during the last hours, but if he hadn't wanted to obey, he wouldn't have done it. She knew the truth was he felt lost in this world, even though he would have never admitted it. That was why he had obeyed, not because he still regarded her as a monarch. She definitely didn't mind – she even cherished it, in fact - being called 'the queen' as long as it was being said with respect. She didn't want to hear such an important title with this dismissive manner of his.

She didn't comment on it now though, she thought it would be more proper to have an important conversation about her status in more friendly environment. Without second thoughts she turned on her heels and headed towards the counter.

"Would that be all?" The shop assistant asked with such a sweet smile that Regina felt like vomiting. Too much cuteness for one day. And this day had just started.

"Yes, it would be all," she replied and took her credit card out.

"I like when a woman pays for herself." She heard his voice right in her ear. "A woman paying for me? It's like a dream coming true."

She smirked.

"Just don't fool yourself into thinking this dream will last long," she answered, casting him a quick supreme glance.

The shop assistant counted everything up and took the credit card from Regina. A moment later a frown showed up on the woman's forehead.

"Is something wrong?" Regina asked with a little bit concerned tone.

"I just have to try again." The cashier smiled nonchalantly not explaining what was wrong and did what she had just said. The result had to be the same, because the frown deepened. "I'm sorry, but I can't gain an access to the resources on your card, ma'am."

She handed Regina the card. It was the Queen who frowned this time.

"That's impossible, I was using it three days ago without any problem," she said with disbelief. "Can I try again?"

"Yes, of course." The woman shoved a terminal towards her. Regina put the card inside and waited for an answer from the bank.

Access denied, it said after a while. She tried again, but to no avail. She had no idea what was going on. That was the first time ever she had such a problem.

"I... I just..." She rushed through her wallet. There was only a twenty-dollar bill inside. With such a huge amount of money she would be able to buy a key chain here. Very small one. Or maybe not.

"And that would be so much for that dream. Don't bother, sweetheart." She heard him murmur before handing the cashier the roll of money. Regina looked at him with surprise and bewilderment.

"You lost your home keys and the car, but you have so much money on you, sir?" The woman asked with curiosity. Regina couldn't really focus on her words, trying to retrieve some of the lost dignity and pride. She had to hold herself together.

"I had it in my... costume," he explained, sending the assistant a charming and nonchalant smile. He had skills to be quite an actor, Regina had to admit. His abilities to adapt were better than she had expected. "I have no recollection of how they got there, I guess I had to bring them to the party." Or maybe not.

His bright smile didn't erase the woman's confused expression. Nevertheless, she took the money. Regina was quite sure they would reach the top place on the shop assistant's 'The strangest customers' list.

The merciful gaze from the woman added insult to injury. She couldn't stand it any longer.

"I will..." She pointed to the door. He nodded slowly and watched her as she turned around and started walking towards the door.

She wasn't in a stable relationship with her emotions. In fact, despite everything she had thought this day, she was a mess without much hope for getting better. Overwhelmed by events of few last months, her subconsciousness became totally wrecked and out of control. Roller coaster of different feelings that she weren't quite able to comprehend could flood her in every single second. Exactly such a situation was happening right now. And triggered by something so irrelevant as an out of order credit card.

She left the shop in haste. Fresh air was definitely something she needed. She felt humiliated. What had just happened wasn't irrelevant for her pride. Money was the real value in this world. It was the power. Lack of money meant lack of power. And without power or its counterpart she felt awfully small, like she didn't have any significance here. It was almost an unbearable feeling, comparing only to another Snow White's victory back in the Enchanted Forest.

"Good you didn't have enough creativity to invent the different currency."

She winked quickly and turned around. She didn't want him to see her weak and defeated.

"I didn't make that curse and my creativity is fine," she snapped, narrowing her eyes. Suddenly the meaning of his words struck her. "Where did you get this money from?"

"Let's say I had to undertake some necessary precautions just before leaving Storybrooke," he answered with a sparkle in his eyes. She sniffed. "What happened back there?"

She looked at him angrily, wanting to say it was none of his business. But as she watched him her exasperation was decreasing and after a while there was only a hurt pride, which answered him vainly, "No one should dare think I don't have money. I am the Queen. I have plenty of money."

"I guess I have to add 'money' to the list of your touchy subjects," he commented smugly.

"Listen," she abruptly approached him so they were standing next to each other in the distance of merely few inches. "Money is the ultimate power here. It is the strength that defines people's place in this world. It is the currency you pay with for being someone important. Without it you are no one. Nothing."

"I think I comprehend it quite well," he replied, looking at her askance.

"I don't think you do," she snapped and moved away. The world seemed a hostile place again.

He didn't reply. He had to see she wasn't in mood for a conversation.

She needed time to think; to forget about this awful déjà vu, the reminder of what it had been like in their world - having no power to fight the forces of good. She had to do something with it. Suddenly a solution popped into her head. Of course, why hadn't she thought about it earlier?

"I recognize that look," he said, breaking the temporarily silence.

"What look?" she asked innocently.

"That look. The evil one meaning you are up to something not quite decent." The smile on his lips widened. "What is it this time? You know I'm in."

She looked at him, evil and satisfied smirk forming on her lips.

"We are going to the bank."