"Drink this."

Granny unceremoniously shoved a glass filled to the brim with hot toddy into Regina's shaking hands. She took it from the large woman gratefully, cupping it between her fingers and raising the steaming liquid to her lips, thankful of something, anything to hide her face with. She was milliseconds away from completely breaking down into floods of tears in front of an entire audience of Storybrooke residents and it was not something she was prepared to let herself do.

"I'm so sorry Regina!" Mary Margaret's lower lip was wobbling, her eyes awash with guilty tears. "I don't know what's gotten into her!"

Regina shook her head, dark locks tumbling across her face, the colour still lost from her cheeks, flesh pale and wan that just moments ago had been soaked with the torrid flush of unbridled lust and passion. "It's not her fault Mary Margaret. It's the dark magic inside her, it's taking more and more control of her with every day."

"That's no excuse!" Robin growled.

"It's not an excuse!" Regina snapped sharply, before sighing heavily, raking one hand through her hair, trying to soothe herself back to some semblance of normality. She looked at her lover, she looked at the man who by all rights should be the one whose arms she wanted to fall into right now, the one whose chest she yearned to lean against, the one whose neck she felt desperate to snake her arms around. What the hell was happening to her? She shook her head, exhausted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine, it's fine," Robin cooed, placing his hands on her thighs and rubbing up and down them soothingly. "You've had a run in with the Dark One…"

"Emma," Mary Margaret said pointedly, shooting Robin a severely dark look. "She's not the Dark One, she's Emma. My daughter. Your friend."

Robin rose, frowning. "I'm sorry Mary Margaret, but we're so far from your daughter and my friend right now it's almost a fucking joke. You need to start facing facts. That… thing isn't your daughter, it's not Emma in there, not any more. That there is dark magic, pure evil. Sooner or later we need to stop thinking about how we're going to save Emma Swan and start thinking about how we're going to stop the Dark One. Otherwise someone's going to get hurt, or worse, killed."

"How can you even say that!"

Regina rose up swiftly, placing her body between the two of them, arms outstretched to keep them apart. As diminutive as Mary Margaret was, Robin would do well to remember she was in actual fact Snow White, and not averse to throwing her weight around with more than a little effectiveness. If he carried on, Robin was likely to sport a broken nose at the very least. "Enough!" She threw a warning glance Robin's way. "Enough. This isn't a conversation to be had, now or in the future. Emma wouldn't give up on us, so we won't give up on her. There'll be no more talking of ending the Dark One. That's not on the agenda." Robin opened his mouth to protest. "Not. On. The agenda. Understood?"

His muted anger was enough of an answer for now. She took it gladly. All she wanted to do was get out of this damn place and hide away in a darkened room somewhere.

"Robin, can you sort the bill please?"

He nodded. "Sure."

She turned to Mary Margaret. "You need to find Emma. I don't like what Robin said but one thing was true. The darkness is taking hold of her much faster than we anticipated. If we don't figure out how to help her, and soon, then I fear we might lose her altogether." She saw the weight almost physically descend on the small woman's shoulder, the accompanying sigh burdened and heavy. She placed her hands on each shoulder, giving her a subtle squeeze. "We will save her Mary Margaret, whatever it takes, whatever we need to do. I promise you that much."

The other woman smiled weakly, trying to muster what was left of that famous hope. "Thank you Regina. I'm so sorry if she hurt you."

"She didn't. I'm made of stronger stuff than Robin seems to think." She glanced over at her partner, currently fiddling with coins on the counter in front of a less than impressed Granny. A light frown settled on her brow, wiped away immediately lest Mary Margaret notice. "Just find her, make sure she's ok."

"Ready?" said Robin, putting his arm protectively around her shoulders. She nodded, trying not to wince at the contact. "Let's get you home then."


The curtains to the living room were drawn close, daylight shut out, the relief of darkness and shadow thoroughly welcome. Regina pinched at the bridge of her nose, fingers pushing down and around into the taut muscle, trying to loosen the tension that had been building since her altercation with Emma.

'Altercation'. Really, Regina? That's what you're going to call it? An 'altercation'?

She groaned, earning a pause in the tinkle of ice against crystal as Robin busied himself in the corner of the room making her a drink.

"You ok?"

"I'm fine," she growled, trying to keep as much irritation as she could out of her voice. "Just tired."

Why the hell is he here?

"Perhaps an early night would do you good."

Regina nodded her agreement, holding out her arm to take the proffered tumbler. Amber liquid swirled lazily around inside the glass, its heady, spicy aroma wrapping itself around her nostrils, working its way along her senses, imbibing her with an immediate sense of calm. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drown slightly in the sensation. The sudden motion of Robin sitting down on the chaise longue bought her out of it.

You could just poof him into another dimension, you know.

"Here's to surviving an encounter with the Dark One."

Robin raised his glass to hers, clinking the thick crystal together sharply and without waiting for her consent to his sarcastic toast, downed his drink in one swift, angry movement.

You think he could ever give you an encounter like that Regina? You think he could make you feel the way that she did? Has he ever made you feel like that? And from just a kiss! Imagine what she could do to you if you let her in, if you really let her in!

Regina sipped her drink slowly, shutting up her internal monologue, gazing at her lover steadily over the rim of the glass. Suddenly he seemed like a complete stranger to her. "It's not her fault Robin."

His fingers twisted against the soft bristles of his moustache, his eyes refusing to meet hers, displeasure swirling in them at her continued defense of Emma Swan. He rose, moving across the room, hand seizing around the neck of the decanter just as Emma's had around her neck only an hour ago. She fought off the sudden thundering contraction within her core.

"You know," Robin started suddenly, turning on his heel, leaning back against the deep mahogany sideboard, glass dangling between his fingers that pointed at her with just the subtlest hint of accusation, "you still haven't told me what happened in there."

Regina looked at him guardedly. "What do you mean?"

You know exactly what he means.

"You still haven't told me what happened in the bathroom between you and Emma. And why you went in there in the first place? And why you slapped her? Like, what the fuck Regina? What's going on?"

Tell him!

"There's nothing going on, Robin."

Robin moved off his perch, back to the sofa, sitting down opposite her, looking her square in the eye. It was all she could do to look back at him.

"You need to be honest with me Regina. We've been through too much, come too far for us to have any more secrets, to hide anything else from each other. I thought we put all that behind us." He put his drink down on the side, then took hers and did the same. Taking her hands in his, he sighed with what she could have sworn was a hint of patronisation. "We always waste time trying to figure things out by ourselves, not wanting to burden the other, but it always end up with us having to tell the other, doesn't it?"

She nodded.

"If Emma is threatening you, if she's trying to hurt you, if she has something over you, some kind of magic that she's using to control you with… dammit Regina, if you're just trying to protect me… you have to tell me, whatever the consequences." He bought her hands to his lips, kissing them just as he had in the diner before Emma fucking Swan had walked in and destroyed her known world with hers. Unwittingly, he carried on talking. "We're stronger together Regina, we always have been. Together we can defeat whatever she throws at us. You just have to tell me, you just have to be honest with me."

Yes, Regina, tell him! Tell him how her kiss was like nothing you've ever experienced before. Tell him how her lips made you think of things you've only ever dreamt of in your very darkest moments. Tell him how you can still see her face, how you can still smell her scent, how you can still feel the touch of her hands on your skin. Tell him how it's taking everything you have to stop from calling out her name once, twice, three times a fucking charm. Tell him Regina! Be honest with him, be honest with your damn self for once."

Regina took her hands from Robin's, pressing the heels of her palm against her eyes in a pointless attempt to shut Robin and her inner self out. Her whole body was on fire, limbs trembling as magic and desire continually rippled through her. Who was she trying to kid? She had experienced true love's kiss before, more than once, but this… this was on an entirely different level. She had come alive like never before under Emma Swan's lips, she had felt her body and soul entwine themselves around the other woman as natural as sun rise was to the morning. She had ached for her before; now every fibre of her being, every thread of muscle, every singing sensation cried out against her for having stopped them mating with the Dark One. Her own magic spat furiously against her, taut, rigid and unsatisfied, coiled up with distemper and riddled with unsatiated, burning passion. If only she could release it! If only she could loosen it, unburden the tension like a volcano spitting out its ires if only to free itself from constant torment! As Robin reached out towards her, she rose from the chair, raging against herself as much as anything else. He looked up at her, questioning. She nodded, just once, barely there, but enough to transmit her meaning. Her fingers entwined in his.

"Come upstairs," she said, her voice barely a whisper. A broad, lopsided grin fell across his face, the man getting to his feet at his Queen's behest, following her up the stairs, into her bedroom, her most private sanctuary...