vii. four o'clock in the morning (and the sounds of whispers downstairs)

She hears the low thumping of footsteps downstairs and slips out of bed, checking briefly on Henry and Roland to be sure that they're not the culprits before she spreads a hand and summons a fireball from it. "Show yourself!" she says sharply, stepping onto the ground floor and toward the living room.

She gets only a whining, "Too bright," in response, and flickering light fades from her palm as she catches sight of Emma, stretched out on her couch with an arm flung over her eyes and her head on a throw pillow.

It's three o'clock in the morning, she's never given Emma the keys to her house, and Robin is asleep upstairs, but all she can think to say is, "Are you all right?"

"No. I'm an idiot." Emma peers out from under her arm, and Regina flicks on one of the dim reading lamps and sits on the couch opposite her, tugging at her robe where it stops above her knees.

"If this revelation is keeping you up at night, I have to tell you–"

"I tried to end things with Hook."

The elation that soars through her is by no means unexpected and is certainly useless, but the dismay that follows it has her leaning forward, her fingers tangling with each other on her lap. "Tried?"

Emma doesn't shift, just groans and drops her hand to dangle on the floor. "I picked the lock here in…like, two minutes. You need a better security system. You know, if our son is sleeping in the house."

"Really." She lights another fireball in response, and Emma's eyes shift to the space between her thighs that it illuminates with vague interest. Regina flushes and extinguishes it. "Tried, Emma?"

"It took half the night for me to convince him that I was serious, okay?" Emma says exasperatedly. "He kept insisting that he was going to keep fighting for my heart and that he was going to win it someday even if he took a step back and I had to tell him that I didn't want him to try and win me over and I didn't want him at all." Her voice is agitated but her body barely moves, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she stares at the ceiling. "And so he said he was going to leave town. That it was too painful to be around me then."

She hates to empathize with the pirate, but she understands the sentiment all too well, even if it agitates Emma this much. She's far too attached to Emma herself. Losing their friendship alone would be enough to break her, though she can't imagine giving up and going away when she still has that to cling to.

"And that's a load of crap, right? He couldn't possibly love me so much that he'd just give up on every relationship he's formed here just because I dumped him? I mean, he has friends here! He has my dad and Tink and some of the Lost Boys and Henry idolizes him and I thought…" Her voice is small. "I thought we'd been friends before this. I care about him."

Ah. "So you accepted his ultimatum."

Emma frowns at her. "Don't call it that. It wasn't like he was manipulating me. I just…I'm not hinging everyone else's happiness– my happiness, even if it isn't what I– on trying to ruin…" Her voice wavers. "You're so happy, Regina. I want you to be happy." She smiles with only her eyes, shining out across the room, and Regina can't move in the presence of them. "I never thought we'd get here, but I want you to be happy."

It's three o'clock in the morning and she's searching for answers where she craves them instead of where Emma's actually offering them. "I don't understand," she says finally. "If you and the pirate have settled things, then shouldn't you be there now…minting your renewed relationship?" Her lips curls with distaste. It's the closest she's ever gotten to contemplating the two of them together, and she'd do just as well never doing so again. For Emma's safety, I hope he removes that damned hook beforehand.

Emma's face mirrors her own. "Ew, stop thinking about it." Regina's mouth twists and she gets a throw pillow hurled at her knees for it. "No, we didn't do anything. Hook thinks we had a fight. Or I'm getting cold feet because I'm-" She hooks her fingers into quotes. "'feeling too much.' Or something. He's giving me space. And I…"

She props herself up for a minute, eyes very solemn as she catches Regina's gaze and holds on to it. Regina's wearing a robe wrapped tightly around herself but she's never felt so exposed as she does under Emma's gaze in this moment, bare and open in the shadows of the night. "I've never been pursued like this before. And having someone fight like this for me…I thought it was good for me. Mary Margaret says that I'm so closed off that I needed someone to break through my defenses." Emma sighs. "Maybe she's right. But now that it's actually happening, I just feel like…"

She falls silent, lips pressing together until they're thin and turning white, and Regina prompts, "Like…?"

"A trophy."

Oh. Emma looks so downcast and startled at her admission that Regina suspects that it's the first time that she's admitted it even to herself. "I'm not unfamiliar with that feeling," she says softly.

A daughter. A wife. A stepmother. Part of why she'd loved Daniel so ardently from the start had been his absolute lack of expectations from her, the way he'd looked at her every time she'd kissed him as though he couldn't believe that she was his. She'd fallen apart and been pieced together again with every moment they'd had.

She pushes aside the past, unwilling to dwell on anyone else when Emma's coming apart in front of her. "Though I've never been pursued either," she murmurs. "And I can imagine that a pirate would be more interested in buried treasure than in the equally precious one revealed before him."

Emma sits up, furrowed brow casting shadows across her face. "Sorry, but…you'venever been pursued? You?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I moved quickly from hapless girl with a terrifying mother to equally terrifying queen and mayor."

"Mayor MILF," Emma mutters, and Regina does a double take.

"What was that?"

Emma falls back to the couch, her hand over her eyes again. "Nothing."

She sighs, and Regina suggests timidly, "Henry pursued you, too, didn't he?" She's gotten the impression that Emma had never intended to stay in town for Henry, even when he'd begged her, and her real impetus had been Regina provoking her. Which she can't say she's sorry about, in hindsight.

Emma laughs when she mentions it. "It's not the same. But yeah, I think you had more to do with me staying than Henry himself at first."

"Not that you weren't just as quick to provoke me," Regina feels obligated to point out.

"Oh, really?" Emma turns her head to eye Regina under her arm. "On a scale of harmless mom to evil queen, how threatening is showing up at my door with a basket of apples first thing in the morning?"

"On a scale of Mary Margaret Blanchard to Emma Swan, how unnecessarily aggressive is taking a power tool to the mayor's tree on your first day in town?" She crosses her legs and leans back expectantly.

"You had me arrested!"

"You had it coming!" But they're both grinning, the bite long gone from their conversations and replaced with this strange affection they've developed for each other. The savior and the evil queen, having a sleepover party in the living room while their son sleeps upstairs. "You didn't believe me, that first day. When you had the audacity to question my love for Henry."

Emma shakes her head. "Yeah, I don't think audacity even covers it, knowing what I do now." An automatic warning finger in her direction. "No hating on the superpower!"

A smirk. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Emma rubs her eyes, thoughtful. "But I…I think a part of me didn't want to believe you even then. You can say that Henry was chasing me, but despite myself, I actuallywanted him to. I wanted to know him. I wanted to love him."

And there's the question that lingers, the one that Emma herself doesn't seem to know the answer to. "And do you want to love Hook?"

"I should." But that's not an answer at all, and Emma knows it. "He's so easy. And what kind of asshole am I if I don't and I keep him around just because I don't want him to go?" She inhales, breathes out with a sigh. "I could love him, if we keep this up. I don't know if it'd be…what he wants, but…"

"You've never promised him anything more than what you've given him, Emma. You've been honest with him, and he's chosen to be happy with it."

"You're so happy," Emma whispers. "I want you to be happy."

Something wrenches inside of her. "You're so busy worrying about everyone else's happiness that you don't think about yourself," she retorts. "Maybe it's time you gave up what you think will make Hook or your parents or me happy and considered that."

Emma shrugs, warding off her words with the movement of her shoulders. "I'm supposed to be ensuring happy endings. I'm supposed to be the savior."

"Because Rumplestiltskin wrote it into a curse." Because their lives have been built on that curse and around it and now that it's over and been wrung dry of any meaning, they're both without direction and left circling each other, as it had been foretold from the start. "He wrote me into it as an evil queen, and I've spent years working to cast off that title."

It's almost four in the morning, and Emma's eyes are suddenly glittering with unshed tears as Regina plows on. "Maybe it's time you did the same. Maybe it's time you stopped surrendering to Hook for putting you first and worked on putting yourself first instead."

Emma laughs. It's a wet, sharp sound, and Regina is suddenly longing to cross the distance between them, to take Emma into her arms and hold her like she does Henry after a bad dream. "Fuck, this is such a mess. I think I'm starting to miss the good old days when there were curses to break and magical hand…stuff and everything wassimple." She perks up. "Hey, wanna cast a new curse together? That should keep things interesting. We can co-mayor the town and lock up anyone who tries to break it. Someone keeps stealing my parking spot on Mondays and I think the mayoral office should get involved." She's smiling, but there's an odd kind of desperation to it, darkness lurking behind the humor.

Regina arches a brow, choosing to overlook it for now. "You want us to give up the thing we love most? Again?"

"Spoilsport," Emma grumbles good-naturedly.

She yawns, and Regina glances at the clock. "I have a guest bedroom upstairs, if you want. You don't need to stay on the couch."

"I like your couch. It smells like apples."

"You mean the cider you spilled on it on your birthday."

Emma doesn't catch the halfhearted disapproval in her voice. Or chooses to ignore it. "Whatever."

"You should go to sleep, Emma. You can figure this out in the morning." She can feel tiredness catching up with her, too, only exacerbated by their conversation. "As much as it pains me to admit it, if Hook has the capacity to give you the love and happiness you want, maybe he's worth it. But…"

She chooses her words with care, acutely aware of Emma's eyes on her. "You deserve so much more than settling for someone who will never be good enough for you," she manages, and her heart clenches. Emma is brash and annoying and has a terrible hero complex and no concept of privacy or personal space or tact.

And it's impossible to conceive of anyone who could be good enough to touch her.

It galls at her that the pirate had ever thought he'd had a chance, that he could ever be enough for Emma Swan, when she's so beyond his level. Beyond any of their levels. It galls at her that Emma has ever contemplated loving him.

She grits her teeth together, a fury she can't name directed inward, and Emma says again, softer than before, "You're so happy, Regina."

It's the third time she's said it tonight, and Regina still doesn't know what to make of it. "What do you want me to say, Emma?"

Emma yawns again, her eyes lidding closed. "You don't want to know that."

"I do." She knits her fingers together, uncomprehending.

When she looks up, Emma is watching her, sleepy eyes open again. "I want you to lie to me." She says it almost voicelessly, and Regina has to stop breathing to hear it. "I want you to tell me you aren't happy. I want…I want so many selfish, miserable things."

Is there still a part of Emma that hates her, that envies what she has now? She blinks back tears that spring up from exhaustion more than despair. She'd stopped believing that she still deserved any happiness sometime around the moment Pan's curse had hit; and all the moments since then, every minute with Henry and Emma and those two idiots she definitely doesn't care about, has felt like borrowed time stolen from those she's hurt over the years. Emma's called it a martyr complex and snapped at her about it during their fight with Zelena. As though remorse hadn't been a long time coming. As though Emma with her savior complex is one to talk.

And Robin. Robin makes her happy, too, and loves her in ways she isn't capable of giving back to him. Not as long as Emma Swan exists and has such bright eyes that see through her at four o'clock in the morning, and she chokes back her emotions and says, "All right." Emma's eyes are open again, fixed on her, her breathing ragged as she stares at Regina. "I'm not happy, Emma. Not truly."

She watches as Emma's breath evens out, as the other woman doesn't shift her gaze from Regina's, and she stares back as long as she can until Emma murmurs, "I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" But Emma's eyes are closed now, the blonde-haloed figure on the couch surrendering to slumber at last, and Regina pulls herself up to stand and goes to find a light blanket in the closet.

She lays it across Emma's body, daring to stroke her hair away from her face, and bends to brush a kiss across her cool forehead. "Good night," she whispers, and Emma's lips curl upwards unconsciously.


viii. the status quo (four people in her arms)

It's Henry's birthday today, the first she's shared with him in two years, and she's feeling inexplicably emotional about it. She remembers the two before that, even, the sullen little boy who'd wanted anyone but her with him, and when she wakes up in the morning she calls Emma and fumbles over what she wants.

Emma understands before she does and takes over the planning and now Regina's walking with Robin and Roland to Granny's, the pressure of the birthday fading, and she turns to smile down at Roland just as she spots Emma and Henry sitting opposite Hook at one of the tables and smirking at something he'd said.

Three grins widen when they catch sight of each other and Henry hops out of his booth and makes a beeline for her. "Mom!" he says, beaming, and she's unmade and rebuilt anew with his arms wrapped around her. "You came!"

"Of course I did." She senses Emma's eyes on her from across the room, warm and attentive, and she feels a corresponding warmth in her chest as Robin moves away to give her and Henry some space.

She remembers Henry's second-to-last birthday, at the height of the tension post-Cora between the Charmings and her. She'd sat inside and fumed and wept and watched as around midday, a familiar yellow car had rounded her street, paused, and then driven on. I didn't know how to deal with you, Emma had said in Neverland, in a frank moment they'd managed one night while their companions had slept around them. Sometimes I felt like the villain. Sometimes I felt like you'd brought this all on yourself. And I couldn't risk Henry.

She'd scoffed then and she still scoffs at the thought of it now, because she'd have never harmed Henry and it still burns that Emma could have believed otherwise for so much of that first year post-curse.

But really, what else could she have done?

She bites back recriminations that have no place at Henry's party and makes her way to the counter where Robin is passing her cake to Granny and talking to Tink. Leo is in Granny's arms and he's briskly handed into hers as Granny takes the cake away.

"Hello, Emma Junior," she coos, rocking him. Anything's better than calling him by his actual name. "Have you been keeping Snow up all night?" Henry gives her a lookfollowed by a well-learned Emma Swan eyeroll and she hums, "Destroying her happiness if it's the last thing I do," as Leo snuffles approvingly.

There are more adolescents than adults at this party, which makes it the most successful birthday party that Henry's had since preschool, and Regina leans against the counter while everyone eats, rocking Leo in her arms and watching Henry interact with his friends. She does her best not to look at Emma and Hook, still together even after that night.

She's…disappointed. She'd thought that Emma had been ready to get rid of the pirate for good, to put herself first and finally give up on letting others' expectations define her. But now Emma's sitting with him and laughing as though that night had never happened, as though she isn't worth so much more, and-

"You're brooding." Emma snatches Leo from her arms and passes him back to Granny, bumping her shoulder against Regina's as she joins her at the counter.

"I am not."

Emma raises her eyebrows. "You've been glaring straight ahead for the past five minutes. Nick Zimmer has been too terrified to eat." The boy is directly in her path, head ducked down and cheeks very pale.

She forces a smile and turns away from him. "I was…thinking."

"About Henry." It's not a question, and Regina doesn't correct Emma. "You know, I used to light a candle on a cupcake for him every year, back before Storybrooke." Emma shakes her head. "I didn't let myself think about him the rest of the time, but on the day he was born…" A sad smile graces her face, and Regina reaches out to squeeze her hand before she remembers herself. Her hand hovers awkwardly, inches from Emma's. "I'd light the candle, and then I'd blow it out and throw out the damn muffin. And then I'd go out and get so wasted that I wouldn't be able to think about him again."

She laughs, and Regina allows herself a soft chuckle. "That does sound like you." Her hand drops to its side, brushing against Emma's as they shift in place. "I had no idea you had so many regrets when it came to Henry."

"I didn't. I did." She sighs. "I wanted him to have his best chance. And I guess I wanted to be the one to give it to him, somewhere deep down. So for that one day…" Her voice trails off, and she catches Regina's hand in hers. "I'm glad it was you he got in the end. Despite everything, I'm glad it was you."

Regina turns as Emma does the same, and she drops Emma's hand as she stares at her, possessed by a sudden urge to hug the other woman. They've never done thatbefore, never gotten closer than stray touches and sitting side-by-side, and she's never felt more awkward as she lurches forward, her hands sliding around Emma's waist.

Emma takes a deep breath that she can feel too and then there are strong arms tightening around her, pulling her closer. And oh, this was a mistake, a bad, bad mistake, because Emma smells just like she always does and feels warm and soft and the curve of her neck is just high enough for Regina to bury her face into skin and silky hair and Emma's fingers are gentle against her back as Emma pulls her closer, close enough for them to melt into each other. Regina's had her share of dalliances, but none of them have felt as intimate as this moment where Emma Swan has her in her arms and she's so safe, so loved–

She feels the rush of panic hit her even as the steady rhythm of Emma's breathing dulls it, and she knows she should pull away before this all gets even worse for her. But self-preservation is helpless against its ultimate foe, and she knows she's been hugging Emma for far longer than propriety allows but she can feel the smoothness of Emma's shoulder against her lips and Emma's cheek is pressed to her own neck now and Emma murmurs her name once and she doesn't know how to stop any of this.

A throat is cleared behind them and Regina starts, her head jerking up to meet Granny's sympathetic eyes. The woman nods to the rest of the diner and Regina turns her head to see more than a few sets of eyes on them, faces inquisitive or satisfied or confused, and how long had that hug gone on for, anyway?

"Emma!" she hisses, and the blonde lets her go reluctantly. She refuses to focus on the sense of loss when Emma releases her, refuses to focus on anything except the way that Henry's grinning and Snow looks vaguely puzzled and Robin's face is a mask.

Except then she dares to look back at Emma, who's still staring at her instead of the rest of the room, and Emma whispers, "Hi," and Regina flees out the door.

The door opens behind her when she's halfway out of the outdoor seating area and she turns, seeing blonde hair and a dark jacket before she processes that it isn't Emma who's followed her. "What are you doing?" Tink demands, sounding as though she's verging on tears.

"Getting some fresh air?" She isn't leaving, though she wants to. Not on Henry's birthday. She just needs…time. Away from Emma and Robin and whatever people might have thought they'd seen in there.

Tink shakes her head. "Not about that, Regina. I saw you! I saw how you were with Emma just now." Wide eyes are angry and panicky, and Regina thinks, not for the first time, that it may have been a mistake to have a friend so invested in her romantic life. "Why are you so desperate to ruin everything good that happens to you?"

"I'm not ruining anything," she says helplessly, because maybe Tink's right this time. She oversteps and acts entitled and blames Regina for things that haven't even gone wrong, but if she'd seen something more in the scene they'd both just left, then others might have, too. Robin certainly had, and she swallows new guilt at knowing that, knowing that he's probably humiliated and uncomfortable and she's done this to him.

"Don't you think Robin deserves better than this? After all you've done to him by refusing to be happy in the past, you're going to destroy his future right along with your own." The righteous indignation is burning on Tink's face and Regina wavers again.

She hadn't ruined Robin's life by not meeting him back when she'd been a queen. She doesn't blame herself- she isn't Emma, convinced that she's the only one responsible for everyone's happy endings. But now it's harder to deny, in this new world where Robin loves her and she…

"I rather believe that's up to me to decide," says an accented voice behind Tink, and Regina looks up and sees Robin at the door, his face still and hard as he speaks. "And it's between Regina and me, not you."

Tink stares from Regina to Robin, frustration evident on her face. "You don't understand," she finally spits out, and storms inside with one last teary-eyed glare back at Regina.

She feels guilty again, equally frustrated, and she doesn't shift when Robin moves to stand beside her, a hand resting on her back. It feels wrong there today, too heavy and large, but she doesn't feel as though she has the right to move. "I'm sorry," she whispers, because they don't talk about this and that's the closest they can get.

"I know you are." They're both somber now, silent as the sounds of Henry's party emanate from the building in front of them.

It comes as a surprise when Robin says, "The other night. When Emma slept on your couch. I thought she'd ended things with the good Captain." Emma had been belligerent and half-awake at breakfast and she and Robin had engaged in some unspoken juvenile race to finish their pancakes first, and Regina had kicked both of them out of her house in response and sent them to work while Henry and Roland had snickered over their breakfast. Regina had thought that it would be filed away with the rest of the Emma-related issues they don't discuss.

"Yes. I mean no." She's flustered, caught off guard, and Robin watches her with an even gaze. "She was going to. But I suppose she decided not to. I think she just wanted to be happy."

Robin's hand stiffens against her. "Imagine that."

"He's probably not her…her first choice. But Emma's lived so much of her life without having people, without love." She knows her face has taken on a cast of tenderness at the thought of Emma and how she herself had helped to doom her to that life as an infant. She knows that Robin has shifted to watch her as she speaks. "She won't give up on someone who can give her some happiness, not even to risk the idea that she could someday find what she wants most."

She meets his eyes, suddenly unsure whom they're talking about. "And she does care about him, very deeply. Even if it can't be everything he craves from her," she says softly. "I'm…I'm sure it eats at her. I'm sure she doesn't know why he keeps trying when she can't give him all he needs."

Robin offers her an unsteady smile. "He is an outlaw, too," he murmurs. "We're accustomed to trying to take treasures that don't belong to us and make them our own."

She closes her eyes because she can't bear to see the pain in his eyes anymore, and he pulls her closer and folds her into a hug. It's stifling and they don't fit right and it goes on far too long, and she opens her eyes and stares over his shoulder at the open door to Granny's and Emma in one of the far booths, sitting with her parents and Hook and sneaking glances back at her.


ix. an overture, unexpected (damn it all and damn them all)

"You're wearing that?" Henry's sitting on the couch, legs drawn up against his chin as he eyes her up and down.

She purses her lips at his tone. A year spent living with Emma has only exacerbated a certain irreverence in him that wavers between endearing and frustrating. Much like his other mother. "I've been wearing this all day."

"Yeah, for being the mayor! Not for going out with Ma."

He shakes his head and she glances down, suddenly self-conscious. She's wearing a fairly conservative suit jacket over a dress, grey and black and neat and expensive, and she's worn it dozens of times before when she and Emma had gotten coffee together or done dinner. It's nothing special. Because tonight is nothing special.

"Henry, I think you have…expectations about tonight that just aren't true," she begins delicately. "Your mother's been spending too much time with that pirate and now she's one step away from alcohol poisoning. She needs a designated driver, and since I'd have to pick her up anyway, I'm just supervising her all night instead. Because she's a child," she adds, rolling her eyes. "A stellar role model, she insists."

But Henry's grinning, undeterred by her explanation. "So she asked you out. And you're wearing work clothes." He casts another disapproving look at her ensemble.

"She didn't ask me out. We eat out together all the time."

"Yeah, but that's at work during the day or here at night. You never go out at night." Henry ducks his chin down onto legs that have grown full inches in the past month. "It's not like she's inviting you because you're the life of the party, Mom."

She scowls at his smirk. Much too much time with Emma. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm fun. I once set fire to a…" He tilts his head interestedly and her voice trails off. "Anyway. That is not a conversation for now. I hope you'll make better choices than both your mothers someday."

She nods sharply and walks out of the house, Henry laughing behind her.

Emma's yellow Bug is idling in the driveway, Emma leaning against it and scrolling through her phone as she waits. She brightens when the door slams and looks up. "Regina! You…um…you look really nice."

"Are you critiquing my outfit too?" She's flushing, which is ridiculous because this iscasual, just as she'd told Henry. Emma had been in her office this morning and had spent so much time venting about Hook that Regina had snidely suggested that she drink away her troubles again, and somehow she'd been roped into this designated driver duty. There's no hidden meaning to this outing, and there doesn't have to be, either. Can't two co-parents go out for drinks without their son casting aspersions?

Emma offers her a bemused half-smile. "No, I just think you look good." Her eyes drift downward to appraise Regina again, the smile still on her face, and it's one of the most winsome things Regina has ever seen. She grits her teeth together as Emma grins. "Wanna head out? I thought we'd go to the Pridelands tonight."

"Not your usual fare, is it? Don't you prefer that squalor-ridden alcohol nest?"

Emma shrugs, reaching to pull the passenger door open for Regina. "I can afford the squalor-ridden alcohol nest. But you're a little too classy for the Rabbit Hole."

She stiffens, grabbing the door handle before Emma can get it. "You don't need to do that," she says quickly. "You shouldn't…this isn't…" And then she falls silent with a sigh. There's nothing that she can say right now that won't make this situation even more awkward, especially not while Emma watches her worriedly, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she glances from Regina's eyes to her wavering lips. "Never mind," she finally mutters, sliding into the seat and slamming the door behind her.

The Pridelands is the upper-class bar in town, the kind Emma really can't afford, and Regina vows silently that she'll pick up the tab for the night. Between friends, of course, no matter that Emma's actually changed out of the jeans she'd been wearing when she'd dropped Henry off earlier and into a short skirt and leggings. The Pridelands has a strict dress code, and Emma's just self-conscious enough to worry about that in advance.

And she appreciates Emma's conscientiousness. So she does pause when they exit the car and murmurs, "You do too."

"Huh?"

She nods at the dark burgundy blouse that's definitely one of her own and the skirt below it. "Look good."

"Uh." Emma's pale enough that she can see the progression of the redness that begins at her neck and spreads outward, up to her ears and along her cheekbones until freckles are standing out beneath it. Regina watches, fascinated, and Emma's cheeks get even darker. "Thanks. This shirt is yours, actually."

"Oh, I know, Miss Swan," Regina purrs, slinking past her and hearing a low gulp from Emma in response. She regrets it only once they're in the bar and Emma is sitting opposite her in one of the booths, still flushed as though it's too hot in here.

Which it is. Damn lions. She unbuttons her second button automatically, and Emma perks up. Damn lions.

The food here is exquisite, some of the best in town and certainly the best anyone could get at a bar, so she insists that Emma taste the salmon and Emma grimaces her way through it. "It's not that bad!" she protests when she sees Regina's death glare on her. "It's just not my style."

"Is ground beef and fries really a style?" Regina shoots back, wrinkling her nose. "I hardly think that anything with more grease than edible content is even considered food."

Emma leans forward, smirking. "Oh please, like you don't eat all my fries when I order them. You think I don't notice that every time I look away you grab a couple?"

Those are communal fries, and it's not like Emma doesn't get cranky whenever she takes them. Her companion's reaction is generally even more delicious than the fries, which is why she does it. Not because they're…decent. "Is that your other superpower? Hoarding food?"

"Maybe." Emma waggles her eyebrows. "My fries, my rules– hey!" She reaches for her fork but Regina's already digging into the salmon, sectioning off a piece for herself and popping it into her mouth. "I was eating that!"

"You didn't appreciate it enough," Regina informs her, pulling the salmon off her fork with her teeth and licks at it once her mouth is closed, tasting the juices that flavor it. Her eyes flutter shut appreciatively. "Food hoarder."

When she opens them again, Emma is staring at her, looking a bit dumbfounded. She swallows, a rush of self-consciousness overtaking her. "Shouldn't you be drowning your sorrows in high-priced whiskey right about now?"

"You haven't driven me to drink," Emma says wanly, and then she mutters, "Yet," under her breath, just loud enough for Regina to hear.

She narrows her eyes. "And the pirate?" She regrets mentioning him immediately, tainting what's been a fairly bearable (okay, better than bearable) night thus far with mention of Emma's damned shadow, but Emma's already shrugging and looking distant and maybe that's how this has to be, anyway.

Emma spears a piece of broccoli off Regina's plate and eyes it suspiciously rather than answering. "You know that Henry's been avoiding him since his birthday?"

"What do you mean? He's been over at your house almost every day this week." He's been coming home earlier than usual, and more often in David's truck than the Bug, but he also hasn't mentioned any friction or discomfort there.

Emma shrugs. "I didn't even notice at first, but he's turned down two trips on the Jolly Roger to go riding and when Hook offered to come along to the stables, he flat-out refused. He never passes up time with Hook." She frowns. "I don't know if Hook said something to offend him or not, but if he did…"

"You'll finally decide that he isn't making everyone happy and give up on him?" Regina suggests, a little too interestedly.

She gets an elaborate eyeroll for it. "You know, I'm not that much of a pushover, Regina. I just care about our son's happiness."

There's hurt in Emma's voice, the kind that they'd never been able to bring out in each other before recently, and maybe that's why Regina doesn't catch it until after she hears accusation instead. "Are you implying that I don't? I've tolerated that insipid, obsessive man around him for far too long. For his sake!" And she surges forward, still stung, and sneers, "Certainly not for yours."

Emma's eyes darken, the hurt finally strong enough to register in Regina's mind. "Okay," she says slowly. "I'm gonna get some of that whiskey now." She blinks twice, a disconsolate expression fleeting over her face before she replaces it with the patented Emma Swan mask of steel, and guilt bubbles up at once, overwhelming her in an instant.

"Emma, wait." She's reaching out to Emma without thinking about it, taking the blonde's hand in hers over the plate of salmon. "I'm sorry. I just…I really don't like Hook."

Emma laughs, squeezing her hand gently until the tension fades from between them and Regina remembers how to breathe again. "I know you don't. And I know you don't understand why I didn't end it when I could."

"I do understand it," she admits grudgingly. Emma deserves better than a shadow of happiness, but it's what she's chosen to cling to. "I just don't like it." She recalls Emma's words from before and softens. "But you have the right to pursue your own happiness. And you…you should."

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," Emma says, and turns smoothly to the nearest waiter before Regina can say anything. "I think I'll have that wine now."

They drink red wine and talk about Henry and argue about Storybrooke bureaucracy and contemplate adding another magic lesson to their weekly schedule, since there have been three complaints about hauntings this month and that doesn't bode well. Emma doesn't drink more than a few glasses and Regina nurses the one, forcefully reminding herself that she's only here to drive Emma home.

It's close to midnight when Emma finally admits that the salmon hadn't been awful and she's getting a little more relaxed, if the way her foot is absentmindedly rubbing against Regina is any indication, and they make their way back to the car together. Emma plops down in the passenger seat without even an overture toward the door handle on the driver's side, and Regina is relieved. Not disappointed. Relieved.

"I can get home on my own," Emma says when she heads for the Charmings. "It'll be easier if I take my car back tonight anyway. I didn't really think ahead." She shrugs and quirks her mouth into a smile. "I had a good time, though. We should do girls' nights more often."

"We should," she's agreeing before she can think it over, and then she remembers Emma opening the door for her and the slow glide of Emma's toes against her calves and she hastily puts in, "Maybe next time you can invite some of your other friends, too."

"Yeah." The smile stiffens on Emma's face. "Maybe."

They pull over on Mifflin Street in front of Regina's house and she exits the car with a brief goodnight, and she's halfway down the pathway to her house when she hears Emma behind her, jogging to catch up to her.

"What are you doing?"

Emma stares at her, her eyes wide and uncertain. "Walking you…to your door?" It's a gauntlet that Emma herself doesn't seem to know why she's extending, why they both freeze together at the porch and stare at each other and Regina rocks her head slowly from side to side.

Her heart twists in her chest and she doesn't understand, she doesn't know why this is happening right now when things are good and she's been so, so careful tonight. "Why are you walking me to my door?"

"I–" Emma's eyes are as panicked as her own and she falls silent before she can say anything else, anything permanent.

And Regina wants to be quiet too, wants to write off tonight as nothing at all, but Emma's walking her to her door and Robin is upstairs waiting up for her and this is not how it's supposed to be. "What is this, Emma?" She leans against an ivory column and digs her thumbs into the thin pockets of her jacket. "What are we doing tonight?"

Emma looks down, those high spots of color on her cheeks again- or is it just the porch light? she can't be sure, not until Emma's head jerks up again and she whispers an answer so unsure that it's a question instead. "It wasn't a date."

It'd be easy to take that at face value and agree, but the fact that it has to be clarified, that it wasn't a date sounds a whole lot like it wasn't a date?, is reason enough for her to keep staring at Emma, searching for words to respond. Robin is just behind the door, she knows, somewhere in her home. Her soulmate. Her lover. The man she's meant to spend the rest of her life with.

Even if her hands are craving to break free from her pockets where she holds them rigidly and seize Emma instead.

Emma blinks hard. "I um…I know I've said that I always can tell when you're lying. And I can. Usually. But I don't think my superpower is all that reliable when it comes to you and me." She gulps in a breath and Regina's fingers tighten around her pockets. "I've been…I guess I see what I want to see. And it's been giving me all kinds of mixed signals and I don't know how to deal with that because I don't want to make you uncomfortable and I know that you're happy and…"

"Emma," she says, because she's impatient and terrified with this new place that they're at and how quickly it's going to self-destruct, and maybe she's criticized Emma in the past for not knowing what she wants but now Regina just– she doesn't know. She isn't ready for this, not for the uncertainty that stops her throat as she dares to ask again, "What are you doing?"

Emma stops, the nervous tics fading away, and now there's nothing but defiance in her eyes. "I'm pursuing my own happiness," she echoes, and Regina laughs out a choked sob.

"This is your happiness?" She laughs again, and it's cold as she feels her insides freezing over. "Emma, I destroyed your happiness. Again and again and I couldn't even give you the happy ending you deserved last year. Why the hell are you here, when I'm worse than Hook, I've hurt you so much more than him–" The words are pouring out of her, self-loathing she's had pent up for a year now since she'd first accepted that villains don't get happy endings. That whatever's been given to her since is only a gift she'll one day destroy as well.

"I don't care anymore!" Emma's not crying; she's shaking with intensity, with new fury at their own ghosts. "Yes, you were evil and you ruined my life and you've been a pain in the ass since I got to Storybrooke, but you're not that person anymore. You make me happy now. You've been making me happy for months." Her eyes are fire, burning Regina to her icy core, and she trembles under Emma's gaze. "You keep telling me I deserve happiness, I deserve love and someone I don't just settle into. Can't I choose who that is? Can't I choose you?"

She shivers suddenly and Regina doesn't dare move forward to touch her. "And I know you're happy with Robin. I don't know if I'm worth that. And I don't know if this is me pushing you when you don't want to be pursued and I can't tell if you're lying so just tell me now. Tell me to stop and I'll stop."

Her eyes are shining in the dim light of the porch, her smile still soft as though she's afraid to show any more of her face as she exposes her heart, even as Regina is still frozen in place. "Nothing changes, okay? I show up at your office tomorrow morning with a coffee for you and we can debate whether or not haunting is a punishable offense for the citizens of Storybrooke. I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't do that to you." She waits, expectant, and sags a little more with every moment that Regina stands silently.

This is absurd. This isn't what Emma wants, it isn't fair to Emma and it's something she'd never thought would matter. Emma must know how she feels. She's never been able to hide it, not from Robin or Henry or even Hook, and Emma has to see it, faulty superpower or not.

And it's doomed from the start. "Emma…" she manages at last, and Emma's still watching her, her lips curved upward in something between a smile and a grimace. "Emma, I have a soulmate." Emma straightens, all expression gone from her face. "I know you're not a fan of magic and our past, but that's not a negotiable thing in the Enchanted Forest. Fate has already written my story."

Emma nods, thin-lipped and sharp. "Fate is the bullshit reason my parents gave for giving me up."

"Fate and me," Regina corrects her. This is new agony, stretching through her at the sight of Emma Swan reverting to a woman she hasn't known in a long time. "And I won't do it again. I won't destroy your happiness anymore." She crosses the porch in a swift step and folds into Emma's arms as they reach out to catch her. And maybe it's the last time that'll happen, the second and their final contact like this, and there are tears leaking out of her eyes no matter how furiously she tries to hold them back.

"Tell me you want me to stop, then," Emma whispers, tightening her arms around her. They still fit together, soft curves and sharp edges, and Regina almost wants to say it, to say the thing she hasn't admitted even in her own mind. I love you. I've loved you for so long I can't remember hating you anymore.

But this is about Emma's happiness, not love. Happiness can be friendship when fate is so stifling, so useless, and Regina's love will only bring Emma pain. Destiny is a monolith, and she's spent far too long swept up in it to do anything more than feel guilty about trying to resist it at the expense of others. "I want you to stop," she breathes, and holds on so tightly that Emma has to struggle to step away before she lets go.

Emma fades away. It's the only way she can describe it, the way the defiance and this determined, larger-than-life Emma who's so much more honest than she can ever be just melts away and she's left with a woman who wears her shirt and looks so small in it, even with their difference in height. "Okay," she says. She seems to struggle to lift her lips into a smile but gives up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

She gives a weak little wave and the lights on the porch blink out unexpectedly, leaving Regina in darkness as the Bug pulls away.

She's numb. She pulls open the door and walks upstairs, placing one foot in front of the other and pulling herself ever upward. Ever onward. And Emma's on her way back home and that hadn't been a date, she hadn't done anything wrong that wouldn't destroy everything for everyone. She can keep going as she'd been until now.

Robin smiles at her from his spot on her bed. He's been reading the classics lately, recalling which of the characters and stories he'd known personally as she'd enjoyed doing once too. He folds down the page in Ivanhoeand says, "How was your night?" with only the faintest trepidation.

This is her happiness. This is her future. She inhales slowly, gathering all of her reserves of strength and resiliency and there's a little voice in her head that sounds like Tink demanding why can't you let yourself be happy? and she speaks. "I think you should move to the guest room for a while."