A/N: this chapter took a while as it needed to be rewritten (and i still feel weird about it! argh!). next chapter should come with a smaller gap. hopefully. extra thanks to amy, onella, and everyone who's taken interest in whatever i'm doing here. also, bear with me: ~drama~ happens, everyone is a mess, and nobody is ever done talking.

She needs to find an easier way to congratulate Zelena every time she passes a social milestone. Exposing herself to the Storybrooke public without her presence deserves something of comfort equal to the distress that today might have brought.

Of course, it's only just the evening, Regina's had but one text from Emma saying that her lunch-test with Zelena at the diner was fine and no one was injured in the process. But she has yet to hear Zelena's feelings on today, so she's not even sure.

As she walks down the street lined with shops, she passes Storybrooke Electronics. She could get her a cell phone, maybe. That's practical. (Then she thinks of how that would be underestimating Zelena's propensity to be an annoying shit so maybe not just yet.)

Regina doesn't even know why she's taking time to do this. She's Zelena's hermanita, not her mother, or her… trainer, the way she's trying out this reward system, like she's giving treats to a pet after they've behaved. That's not how this is supposed to be.

But there is a priority to let Zelena have things of her own. She did, after all, spend a great amount of time coveting both the material and immaterial things of Regina's life, and now she must be suffocating. So what Regina is doing is definitely not the be all and end all of fixing any of that, but it could be meaningful.

And then she sees the bookstore and the idea lights up in her head with such brightness that she has to stop and congratulate herself.

There's Frankie Valli playing on the family room stereo when Regina comes home with the paper bag in her hands. It's already sundown, and Zelena must have been home alone for several hours, so it's really no surprise to Regina that she'd spent any amount of time disorganizing their music.

"Turn that down for a moment, I have something for you," she says, and she can see how Zelena responds to her anticipant grin with a raised eyebrow.

They sit down on the couch, where Zelena has managed to leave a pile of CD cases in addition to on the floor and coffee table.

"I hope you've put the discs in the right cases or so help me, Zelena––"

"Yeah, yeah. Get on with it."

"Firstly," Regina says, withholding the paper bag. "How was lunch?"

Zelena rolls her eyes. "Great, dandy, dwarves glared at me, Emma said I wasn't too bad but then didn't speak to me halfway after, and I had a milkshake. Now then?"

Regina isn't satisfied, but proceeds anyway as that's likely a conversation for later. She takes the book out of the bag and hands it to Zelena, who stares at it suspiciously.

"Wicked: The Life and Times of the … really?"

"You don't sound too pleased."

"Is this a joke?"

"I believe everyone in this town should be well-versed in this world's fiction. Especially as it pertains to them."

"My life isn't fiction," Zelena replies, and Regina's worried that she's messed it up, but then Zelena takes the book in her hands and she's smiling, and if anyone would have told her years ago that she'd be self-conscious about gifts she'd give to her formerly murderous half-sister, she'd have laughed them out of the room.

"You're asking me to indulge in this possible inaccuracy just to annoy me, aren't you?"

"It can be fun. I'm almost offended that you get a whole series and a musical and I get Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and variations in which I always lose."

"Ha." Zelena starts flipping through the book. "Elphaba?"

"Yes."

"Pfft."

"Well, try Grimhilde. It's not even close! And the things she wears…"

They both laugh, and it feels so nice, she wishes it would always be this nice, but then Zelena's skimming through more pages and she must see something wrong because the light slowly leaves her, her smile no longer reaches her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Zelena ignores the question, sets the book down on the table and returns her attention to the pile of CDs. "Thank you for the gift. I'll humor you, but not today. Is this one any good?"

She holds up the ABBA Gold album, and Regina has to stifle whatever sound would have come out of her mouth.

"Yes. Give it a listen." Then she's no longer as light hearted, instead looks at Zelena intently. "But later. Tell me what just happened there."

"What?"

Regina gives her that pointed look because Zelena's playing dumb doesn't work with her, and she sighs, moves her hands about in frustration.

"Glinda's in there, and I don't quite exactly have the fondest memories of her, alright?"

The feeling of stupidity slowly washes over Regina, but the expression on her face softens in hopes that it sufficiently masks her shame. (Briefly, she thinks that she should've gone with the cell phone.)

"She told Snow and Charming that you two used to be friends."

Zelena's back stiffens. "You met her?"

"Snow and Charming," Regina repeats. "I couldn't go through the door. I wasn't 'pure' enough." She exaggerates the air quotes and Zelena almost laughs, but then she's looking pensively at nothing.

"She was the first person that told me that destiny as what I made it into," Zelena says quietly, and her voice––Regina's never heard it before. "She said that if I believed I was evil, that's what I would become."

Regina nods hesitantly. "She wasn't entirely false."

Zelena leans her head back, her neck meeting perfectly with arch of the couch. "I blew that second chance. She told me to simply choose to be good and I didn't."

Something cold starts in Regina's chest, a small burst and then she's furrowing her brow. Zelena looks over at her and is actually startled; perhaps she expected to find sorrow and sympathy, but instead there is anger.

"What?"

"Listen, Zelena," she starts, lips tight and arms crossed, and she's not even surprised that this would be the same for Zelena –– it's always the same for people like them –– but she's still so angry, "Glinda may have had the right idea about destiny, but simply watering it down to an easy choice of 'should I be good or should I be evil', and then pulling out completely when you've made the wrong one is just … absurd. It isn't how it works."

Zelena scoffs slightly, but she's shaking her head and there's a tear falling down her face. Perhaps she's crying because the pain of Oz is returning, or because that she'd never been told.

"So you don't think it was my fault that I attacked Dorothy in the first place and then faked my own death to get back at Glinda?"

"Let's not get too carried away," Regina begins to laugh, then closes a warm hand over hers. "But believe me when I say that change is not overnight."

"It seems easy with you, though," Zelena admits with no hesitation, holds on to Regina's fingers. All the potential rage in her head quiets.

"We've both gone through very similar things," Regina explains. "It makes a difference, when we're helping each other instead of fighting. I like to think so, anyway."

Zelena sits up and wipes her face dry with her sleeve. "I take it that you've had your fair share of Glindas, then." Her voice is murky and maybe that sound she makes afterward is where the line between laughter and sobbing is.

"You could say that," Regina replies. She really could, despite the complexities between her and Snow and maybe even Emma. There is no evil without a brand of Glinda.

Regina reaches up and smears a rolling tear off of Zelena's face with an exaggerated roughness so that she winces and bats her hand away, and they both break into soft laughter. "You should really fix this mess that you've created. Henry was forgiving the first time but when he comes back again soon to see that you've disordered our music, too––"

There's an aggressive knocking on the door followed by two rings on the doorbell, startling the two of them.

"I don't suppose soon meant now, did it?" Zelena asks, clearly confused.

"No," Regina replies, just as puzzled, then rises to make her way to the foyer.

Zelena doesn't follow immediately, and for a moment she thinks perhaps she'd lied to her, that something did go wrong that afternoon, so she wells up her magic in defense, balling up in her stomach as she approaches the door to potentially fend off whoever is pounding on the surface so urgently.

It would be easier if that were the case. That would be miles and miles preferable to what actually happens.

"Henry?" Regina says incredulously. He's out of breath, there's dirt on the left side of his body, and he's crying. Her baby boy has shown up at her front door crying.

He pushes himself through the door, wrapping desperate arms around her and he's hurting. "Mom," he muffles, his entire body shaking. "I don't wanna go. I don't wanna leave you."

She rubs his back and clings onto him. "Baby, what happened? Tell me what happened. Where's Emma?" He freezes up at her name, and Regina stops breathing. "She … didn't. She didn't try to take you, Henry, did she?"

Henry sobs in confirmation, and in just a matter of seconds, Regina's world starts to crumble. Trusting Emma is like building a house on sand.

She turns, her arm securely wrapped around his shaking shoulder. Zelena is standing in the hall with a look of confusion, but something is there, something like realization and regret. Regina looks away, gently pushes Henry in her direction.

"Stay with your tía for a while, Henry. I need to make a call."

Emma Swan has the gall to have this conversation in person, glassy-eyed and apologetic and full of shit.

"I panicked," Emma pleads, "I was panicking and my first instinct was to run."

"Since when," Regina presses, voice rumbling at the pit of her stomach and she's glad, so glad that Zelena and Henry are upstairs in his room where they may thankfully not hear. "Since when is packing all of your things up, putting our son in a car with the intent to leave forever, acting on instinct?"

Emma shakes her head, and so many tears are falling from the both of them, because how could they be here again? How could they be still doing this miserable song and dance after everything?

"It wasn't like that."

"Emma," Regina actually sobs. Unreliable Emma. Emma who says she understands and then does this. "Stop pretending. Please stop pretending."

She's silent in response, and Regina supposes that tonight, it is the closest thing to Emma admitting that she'll ever get.

Regina covers her eyes with her palms, sighs deeply. She is just so tired.

"What is it, then, Emma?" she starts. "Do you just not trust me? Do you think I've made a mistake with Zelena?"

"No, Regina––"

"Then what?" Regina shouts, looking at Emma and she shouldn't anymore, she shouldn't––"Is it Robin?"

There's a glint in Emma's eyes and Regina can't breathe. She can't.

"It's not just––" Emma attempts, her frown so deep, eyes so sad, and arms just pleading. "I'm lost, and confused, and I need out."

"Then get out," Regina says, heading for the door and opening it. "You just lost the right you never really had in the first place. I'll collect Henry's things tomorrow. Then you're free to go. Come back only when you've gotten yourself together."

Regina looks up at the ceiling, closing herself off for further conversation and not daring to look at Emma's sad, sorrowful, full of shit eyes.

"You wanted to run. So run."

So Emma does.

They're leaving necessary conversations for the morning. She is too tired, too hurt. She checks Henry for any cuts from when he jumped out of Emma's car, and then they go on with nightly routines, a heavier weight on their shoulders. They have cereal for dinner and there is no talking.

It is half past eleven when Henry is finally asleep and she finds herself knocking on Zelena's door. Her movements feel slow and jagged and once Zelena lets her in, once they sit on her bed and Zelena puts an awkward but trying arm across the back of Regina's shoulders, everything spills out; she starts crying and cannot stop and her hands could never be big enough to catch all the tears that fall.

"I don't want to lose him," she wails, and she feels so small, so small in her sister's tightening arms. There is no room for guilt over being the one who is supposed to have it together.

"You won't," Zelena says softly, and if Regina could hear above her own crying, she'd hear the shaking of her voice. "You won't."

She rubs her arm and leans her head atop Regina's, and she's warm. They've never hugged before now but Regina needs someone, she needs to be reminded that she's not as alone as she feels she is.

"In the morning," she manages, throat aching, face numbing. "Please get Henry's things at Mary Margaret's."

"Okay."

"I don't want to see any of them. I don't. Not now."

Zelena hushes her, and she's learning to be gentle, to be comfort –– or perhaps, only relearning.

And as Regina continues to cry and Zelena continues to hold her together, underneath all the painful chaos, there is a vague thought of how if they had known each other before, if they had had each other before, this is how it could've been for the both of them.

It scares her a little, because those things never last as long as they should. Someone is always there to make sure of that.