"You told me to fucking run, so I fucking ran. What more do you want from me?" Emma slouched further into her seat, effectively molding herself into the leather cushion of the tricked out Mercedes, frowning at the scowl directed in her direction. Half of her statement was the truth, and the other half, well- Regina had said run and then bolted in the direction of the diner, only doubling back when she caught the frantic fumbling motions and erratic hopping from the blonde ordering her to unlock the vehicle, so-
"What I wanted-" Regina huffed, taking a moment to collect her thoughts and shove back a piece of hair that escaped its hold before she smashed her fists on the steering wheel, knuckles white. Exhaling a deep breath, she said, "What I wanted was for you to run to the diner so I could barricade the door behind you and seal the Pan out and away from the children. Mostly Henry, but the children all the same."
"And then what? What were you going to do, your royal Evilness? Huh; were you going to take on the Pan yourself?" The blonde's eyes widened dramatically, entire body rigid. "You were. You were going to go all Evil Queen on that Pan, weren't you? That's why you wanted me out of the way, so you could take the credit for the poof."
"That's right. I wanted your accident-prone self out of my way so I could take all of the credit and lord it over you and the rest of your do-good clan later, dear. What an asset you must be for Team Beta with that intuitive line of thinking," Regina spat out as she revved the engine, prompting a startled look from the Pan who had taken up residence on the hood of her car. Served the little creepy child-man-creature right for loitering on her property. Literally, on her property. Too bad the sheriff was more useless than a cricket in a therapy session, else she might have filed a report for the scratch marks left by the thing's claw-like hands.
"Anyway," she said in a calmer voice, "that was not the point. I told you to run in the hopes that you would retreat to the diner so our son would have at least one of his mothers with him while the other went to retrieve weapons. Since the only weapons I've ever seen you carry is that revolver on your hip and a cholesterol-filled bear claw, I presumed that you would not be the ideal candidate to ensure Henry's continued existence on the weapons front."
Emma couldn't help but sulk at the comment, perturbed by the continued insults about her ability to parent the young boy. Sure, she had given him up at birth, but that was for his own benefit as she had been incarcerated at the time with no way of providing for him. There had been no way of knowing how screwed up her life would become then. There was no way of knowing that her son would be adopted by the Evil Queen and raised to be a polite, well-mannered child with a penchant for running away to find shiny and new family members whenever he was told "no" by one of the old ones.
Also, bear claws were delicious and deserved to be eaten. In great quantities.
After a good long minute of brooding over the travesty that had become her life (minus, of course, the presence of the kid and his mother), she offered, "You know, you could have told me that when you told me to run. It wouldn't have killed you to say what you actually mean instead of assuming that I'm going to read your mind."
"Clearly you do not possess the power to read my mind, else you would have run the three feet to the diner instead of dashing across the road to my car." Regina paused and cocked her head to the side, observing the blonde with a look one might use on a particularly nasty-looking bug. "What on earth possessed you to run closer to the Pan?"
"Ithoughtwecouldgotoyourlairandpickuparocketlaunch er," Emma explained in one breath, not bothering to consider the fact that her companion probably did not understand the jumbled mess that rolled off her tongue.
"I beg your pardon."
"Rocket launcher. Pan go boom." Emma explained, shortly and effectively. Was there any other explanation needed?
Dark eyebrows quirked. "How very eloquent, dear."
"He threatened to eat me, Regina! You can't tell me that a rocket launcher is overreacting to that!"
Regina threw up her hands in surrender at the flash of accusation that roared in her direction from the, frankly, pissed off blonde woman in the passenger seat. Funnily enough, until that moment, the brunette had failed to notice that Emma had already taken the precaution of buckling herself into the seat; how very safety conscious and awfully presumptuous of her. "I'm well aware of the fact that he threatened to eat you, Miss Swan, despite your toughened state. My only comment was going to be that I'm starting to like this side of you; the angry, out for vengeance side of you. It's a refreshing change from your usual irritating pursuit for truth, justice, and carbohydrates."
"I, um, I like you, too, 'Gina," Emma muttered in return, concealing the sentiment as best she could with her fist closed tightly over her mouth. She had only said the words, "I love you," one time in her life, and then the jackass (read: Spawn of Rumplestiltskin) had dumped her on the word of Pinocchio, but not before he ensured she would take the fall for his crimes. But, right then, even with the Pan staring at them through the windshield like they were the juiciest steaks on the menu (save for the chubby boy who lived in the shoe with the rest of his siblings), she sort of wanted to say it. Just a little bit. (It might have been the desire to want to outdo the Queen though, so she kept her mouth shut.) "So, what should we do now? I mean, we are sort of stuck in the car until he decides to go...wherever Pans go in the middle of the day, and there's a lot of stuff we could do in the front seat of the car. The gear shift on this thing is pretty low and I could slide and, how far do these seats go-"
"We need weapons," Regina interrupted (thankfully for Emma's loose tongue and foot-in-mouth tendencies). "It would also be advantageous of us to find the Pan's shadow before the town is drowned in a blood bath."
Hadn't that been the line she'd been touting? Weapons, at least; not the shadow thing, that was all Regina. Frankly, Emma was more than willing to try to blow the thing up without its shadow and see how that plan went. The blonde nodded reluctantly in agreement to a variation of her own plan. Really, she would have preferred a make out session (on account of their newly discovered feelings of not-quite-animosity and it-might-be-love-or-at-least-an-intense-form-of-lu st), but beggars couldn't be choosers. "You're in the driver's seat, so drive. I'm not going anywhere. See? I'm already buckled in; safety first and all that."
"For once, you aren't the problem, dear," the Queen admitted in a near defeated voice as she shifted the car into drive. "Rather the problem lies in the Pan's presence on the hood of my car. Should he inflict the slightest bit of damage to it, I will file a formal request for restitution with Team Beta's accounting department."
Accounting Department? Yeah, like they were that organized.
"Good luck getting Granny to pay that out," Emma snorted. "You should hear her gripe about the cost of Dopey's hospital stay. I thought she was going to have a heart attack when the first bill came through."
"Had you run to the diner-"
"Hey! If you took two seconds to tell me where to go instead of assuming I would go into the diner, then we wouldn't be sitting in your car right now. Which, by the way, would be great transportation to go and get those weapons you were talking about so we can kick some Pan ass before I take you out on Friday night." There, she'd said it. Well, she'd brought up the potential date, again; and waited for an answer, again. God, she really hoped Regina hadn't been avoiding the question in order to spare her feelings.
That would just be awkward.
Regina quieted down for a long minute, glaring daggers at the Pan perched happily on the other side of the windshield. When he dared to grin, she flicked her wrist in his direction, threatening the tights-wearing little prancer with the full extent of her powers. What she wouldn't give for ten minutes alone with the redheaded brat, then he might learn the true meaning of pain and torture, as well as a good sense of proper etiquette. "Friday night? I'll have to arrange a sitter for Henry."
It wasn't exactly a yes, but then it wasn't a no either. It was a, Henry needs a babysitter, so- "Neal can watch him," the blonde offered with a half-hearted shrug. Surely he was not doing anything on a Friday night, except, maybe, calling his ex-fiancée to beg forgiveness for being an undeniable doofus who'd chased after an old flame when their child came a-calling, which he could do while he watched Henry play video games and eat more candy than could be considered healthy for a growing boy.
"That's only a slightly better suggestion than the two idiots, dear, and I'm loathe to even consider leaving my son with them." The brunette shuddered to emphasize her point. Poor Henry would come home more confused than ever should she leave him with those two yelping about the powers of good. She could only imagine the look of silent agreement when Mary Margaret and her dear Prince Charming started in on how very evil the Evil Queen was and how evil should be destroyed. Or vanquished. Whichever term they were spouting this week. "I'll consider the Useless One if the werewolf has other plans that evening."
Emma decided that the declaration was as close as she was going to get to an outright agreement. There were just some things that she would have to accept about Regina, and the inability to just say what she meant was definitely one of them. Fortunately, she could live with that. "Weapons?"
"You want the rocket launcher, don't you, dear?"
The blonde nodded and cocked her fingers in a makeshift gun, aimed at the Pan. No one threatened to eat her or her kid without some sort of retribution.
"Stop making idle threats," the brunette ordered, fingers clenched over the gear shift as she expertly slid the sleek machine into drive. Her foot hovered over the gas pedal for a short second before it slammed down; the movement causing the Pan to be dislodged from his position on the hood. "If you're going to sit there and threaten him, at least be prepared for the clean up later."
Roadkill. There was no other explanation for the gleam in Regina's eyes and the slight tilt of the steering wheel in the direction of the fallen creature. The Evil Queen was out for blood and the Pan was the (unfortunate?) victim who'd dared to step foot in her sights. "Um, Regina-"
"Quiet, Miss Swan."
"Yeah, but-"
"Quiet."
Emma squirmed in her seat. "You can't kill him without his shadow!" she finally blurted out, bracing for the impact of auto versus pedestrian (of sorts). The sheriff was so going to write a ticket for that offense, no matter that the kids would be safe from becoming an after-school snack. Or, worse, he would attempt to haul Regina off to jail and wind up a snail for the better part of a week until Cora could be reasoned with to release her magic over his slimy body.
Ruby was so not going to be willing to keep Graham in a box for that long on her dresser without considerable compensation.
The car slid neatly onto the main road, narrowly missing the disgruntled creature on the asphalt, and Emma exhaled the breath she had been holding. She remained quite throughout the short ride to the cemetery, still reeling from nearly becoming an accomplice in a vehicular manslaughter case. That really would not be the way to end the week, especially since the D.A. sort of hated her on principle and the only other lawyers in town were the Possum and Rumplestiltskin. It was only when the car was parked and the keys rested in Regina's palm that she dared to speak up. "You weren't going to squish him, were you?"
Regina rolled her eyes, crossing the manicured lawn to the mausoleum with long strides. "It wouldn't have done much in the long run, dear. Without the shadow, the Pan would have regenerated, for lack of a better word. As amusing as it would have been, I don't believe it would have been worth it once Michael finished double charging me for the repairs."
So very true. The one time Emma had brought the Bug in for repairs (after listening to the laughter from Boy Wonder about the duct tape holding the tape player in place), the town's mechanic, Michael, had damn near drained her bank account for one itty bitty screw that would hold the radio in place. Looking back, she had been better off with the duct tape.
Who knew what he charged for customized missilry instillation?
"Seriously? You just leave this place unlocked for any unsuspecting...me to find?" Emma asked as she crossed the threshold into the final resting place of Henry Mills Sr. Not that she would have ever thought of breaking into a mausoleum until Henry (the little one) mentioned it earlier. And, damn, she finally realized she was still working off of less than three hours of sleep.
"You wouldn't have known about it had my son not run to you this morning to tell you about my nefarious plans for world domination," Regina retorted easily, striding past the casket in the middle of the room without a second glance.
"Is that your-?"
"Father? Yes."
Emma nodded and skirted by, head tucked to her chin in reverence for the man long since past. Like everyone else in town, she, too, had heard the rumors- the ones that told about how Regina had yanked the man's still-beating heart from his chest- but unlike the rest of the town, she just hoped that the logistics of that one were near impossible. "How, um, did he-"
"Heart attack," came the swift response as the brunette forced her weight against the casket, forcefully shoving it to the side to reveal a hidden staircase. "After you, dear," she added with an exaggerated gesture to the stairs.
The blonde stepped forward on light feet, a bit disconcerted about being sent first down the potentially danger-laden stone steps. Perhaps this was the way the Evil Queen and her mother finally took out Team Beta's proclaimed savior (after months of seduction on the Evil Queen's behalf to ensure the blonde's absolute obedience to the order). Because, damn, there hadn't been much of a fight by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs in one piece.
"Keep your hands off of anything that looks like it could explode and you'll be fine."
That was like telling a kid to keep their grubby paws out of the cookie jar before dinner. She was going to touch something; Emma knew it, Regina knew it, even the laser beam knew it. If only she could figure out where, exactly, the on switch was on the complicated piece of weaponry. Emma blinked wide eyes at the thing, struggling to figure out which end would reduce her to ashes and which end would result in an awesome fireworks display.
"You," Regina said, " don't get to play with that." She swatted away the over eager hands from her precious toy without another word, tucking it back under its cover with a loving pat to the top when she was done. "You can, however, collect whatever you want from the far wall."
Emma spun on her feet, nearly falling over, in her eagerness to get her hands on something that would do damage, preferably to the Pan but...whatever, that was negotiable, as long as she got to fire something. Her face fell into a deep frown at the sheer amount of...junk on the far wall. What was she supposed to do with the equivalent of a Koosh ball? Throw it at the Pan in hopes it wouldn't chase after her and declare her 'It' in a game of tag?
"It explodes, dear, when it makes contact with the target. It's not the most reliable, but the children should enjoy the light show it produces."
Exploded? She wanted three. Quickly, she stuffed as many things into the trunk of Regina's car as possible, playing the equivalent of Tetris in between the more fun looking toys Regina had added to the collection. Then, she turned to face the most glorious invention of all-
The rocket launcher.
Long and black, and beautiful, and sleek, and- she needed to touch it.
Before she had the chance, her companion lifted it deftly from the hooks that held it like a trophy at the head of the room and dropped it unceremoniously into the back of the car. No pomp. No circumstance. Just plunk.
"Regina-"
The brunette turned from her half-seated position in the driver's seat. "Oh, for Pete's sake, it's not loaded. If it were, well, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
"No, I-" You freaking dropped a freaking rocket launcher into the back of the car like it was nothing! There had been no ceremony in the delivery of the one piece of weaponry Emma really wanted to try out; nothing, nada, zilch. Plunk! The blonde dropped herself into the front seat, buckling up dutifully. "Just drive back to the diner. Henry's probably wondering where we are."
"That's doubtful, Ms. Swan," Regina noted as she steered the Mercedes up the ramp that would lead them back to the world of the living. "He's currently at the counter bar in Granny's, most likely being filled to the brim with sugary treats courtesy of the Wolf."
Oh, yeah, GPS tracker.
It was a quiet ride, relatively short, too, to the Team Beta headquarters (Granny's diner), in which Emma spent in deep contemplation over the path her life had taken. True, she was much closer to being able to save her son from the creepy clutches of Ronald McPan, but they still had to find his shadow. And who knew where he had hidden that thing. Emma was so lost in concentration, she failed to notice Regina's presence or the open door held in her fingers.
"Are you coming, dear?"
Like a frantic five year old on the first day of school, Emma shot up from her seat, thankfully after she managed to unbuckle herself from the travesty known as a seat belt, and stumbled her way out of the car, only bumping into Regina twice as she did so.
"You're far too tense," the brunette admonished, dropping her hands onto the blonde's shoulders.
If she were a computer, there would have been a ticker tape running along her front screen proclaiming, "Brain overload. Abort! Abort!" But there wasn't, so she was left to stand under the very welcome weight of Regina's hand rubbing delicious circles over skinned bared from her (now) most favorite tank top. "Uh huh." Great. Monosyllabic responses. That was the way to woo a lady.
"Is this about Friday?"
Apparently the question was rhetorical and therefore, did not require her braincells to be on any sort of functional level, Emma decided when lips she had been lusting over came within millimeters of her own, hot breath breaking through the flimsy barrier between them. Lips which just begged to be kissed and suckled and- oh, God, yeah they were right there. If she just fell forward a bit, playing on her innate clumsiness, then-
"Pick me up at seven in anything other than that piece of scrap metal you insist on calling a car," Regina offered, then she was gone. Gone to strut the short distance between the back door of Granny's and the rear parking lot meant for employees (aka Ruby) like a model on the catwalk in her impractical heels and designer suit that hugged all of her curves in the right places.
Suddenly, Emma found herself alone in the middle of the deserted parking lot with nought but a locked car full of weapons (without the key to access said weapons) and an alarming resemblance to a terrified guppy.