Chapter 7

Consciousness came slowly. Painfully. The world teetered oddly as she tried to focus. She closed her eye again slowly, falling back into sweet, shadowed bliss. A voice tugged at her, calling her from the beautiful darkness. But she didn't want to claw her way back to pain. Instead, she curled in deeper inside herself, shying away from the sounds around her.

Soft hands cradled her, soothing, brushing aside the larger chunks of agony. It took a lifetime for Emma to fully come back to herself, to drag herself out of her blanket of nothingness. She blinked up at the face above her, beautiful, yet masked in dark angles. Familiar in so many ways, but the eyes...

Regina's eyes were dark, too dark. Squinting against a backdrop of fire, Emma tried to center in on the woman. Violet stained the brunette's lips and pupils, magic swirling between them. The Mayor leaned forward once more, her breath tickling as she breathed softly against pale, raw skin. More warmth pooled as bone mended, the blonde's destroyed cheek knitting queasily back together.

Gentle fingers rose to catch the long sliver of glass that pushed free from Emma's jaw. The sensation of it made the blonde's already fragile stomach curdle. She mewled weakly as she retched, the brunette rubbing soothing circles, magic continuing to pour into the broken body in her arms.

Spent, the Sheriff allowed time to pass, her mind derailing pleasantly. Neither was sure how long they had sat tangled together, but Regina continued to fix the horrible injuries in front of her. And Emma could swear that every so often, the Queen nuzzled into her hair as she held the Sheriff close. Breathing her in as dark lips whispered magic.

After several long hours, the blonde came completely back to herself.

She wasn't strong enough to stand, but she turned in the Mayor's arms, burrowing into an elegantly curved throat.

"Gold?" Emma's voice was rasping.

"Dead or dying, I'm not sure which." The brunette's smile was vicious and pleased. It made Emma's heart thump with a dull sense of disappointment.

Regina rearranged her arms, resettling the blonde so she could see what was left of the Dark One. Rumple's body lay strewn across the line. The curse masked the upper part of his body, giving the impression of the imp's torso having been cut brutally in half. Green eyes blinked several times before realizing it was not an optical illusion, the magical barrier had actually sliced the man in two.

She turned away in disgust.

"Belle?"

The Mayor's lips quirked into a puzzled frown. "I found her first." She felt more than saw the blonde stiffen with worry. "I thought it best to make her Belle again, and to…give her back to Gold. This Gold. Your Gold. Whatever he is…"

She glanced down at Emma's surprised, but pleased expression.

"Love is weakness. And now his is out in the open."

The Sheriff swallowed thickly, nodding absently. She would let Regina hide behind the façade of vengeance for now. She wasn't in any position to argue or fight the older woman on this point.

She gestured weakly with her chin at the raw stump behind them. "What about him?"

Regina's head tilted as she stared thoughtfully at what was left of Rumple.

"I'll toss what's left into the Line. Not a trace will remain." Her voice lowered. "Who knew the barrier could be so handy."

Emma cleared her throat thickly, wincing as her throat still felt sickeningly wrong. "Want…home."

The brunette sneered. "Well, I'm certainly not taking you back to that abhorrent warehouse you're squatting in. Perhaps a cleaner environment is in order while we mend you?"

The Sheriff felt the world shift away as the Queen transported them on a bed of mist.

7-7-7

Sunlight streamed in, blasting through her eyelids painfully. She flinched away, slipping under the covers to hide her sleep-weakened eyes from the midday sun. Even with all the magic Regina had poured into her, Emma still felt worryingly fragile. Her right eye, which had been mostly crushed as her body had exited the tumbling SUV, was now intact, but aching.

Her body was littered with recently healed wounds that still hurt with a dull sense of wrongness. And the blonde hated the continued feeling of helplessness, of the inability to defend herself if need be. Emma turned slowly, pushing against the heaviness of her limbs to peer blearily into the bedroom's adjacent hallway. Memories trickled in as she stared blankly, half-formed and fleeting.

Regina had struggled to get the Savior settled into her opulently decorated guest room once they had arrived back at the Mayor's darkened mansion. The Sheriff had flailed, pain pulling at her in deep, jarring stabs. Trying desperately to be gentle, the smaller woman had fought Emma into bed. Blood and curses had been the Queen's reward.

They had lain gasping against each other, sweat stained and fighting for air. Regina had dusted soft kisses against Emma's blossoming bruises. It was soothing beyond words; the delicate lips cool against her damaged skin. Magic dusted lightly in the brunette's wake, whisking away the new hurts.

She leaned away, out of Emma's line of sight, only to reappear seconds later with long, curved scissors.

The blonde had taken a sharp, startled breath. Regina smiled slightly in response as she held the scissors away.

"Trust me Miss Swan. If I wanted to hurt you, I would left you bleeding to death on the pavement."

Emma nodded shakily. The brunette was right; fighting back wasn't exactly something within the realm of possibility anyway.

"Now, try not to move too much, dear."

The blonde tried not to flinch as chilling stainless steel cut through her tattered jeans. They came away in bloodied strips of denim. Cool nighttime air sent goose bumps along her bare thighs. Her shirt followed, Regina unwrapping her like some tattered Egyptian mummy.

Naked, save for her asphalt filled socks, Emma shivered as the brunette disappeared once more. Long minutes passed, the reclining woman struggling to stay conscious. Eyes fluttering closed, she drifted away into a fitful doze. The pain dulled briefly.

Something coarse and warm awoke her a few short minutes later. A tired green eye cracked open to see the small brunette running a soapy, waterlogged washcloth over the Savior's blood encrusted body. Her small, elegant hands were surprisingly efficient.

Emma smiled weakly as the day's burdens were washed away.

7-7-7

Her feet found the carpeted floor. Her toes wiggled hesitantly into thick, obviously expensive fabric. Straining, her body's many hurts sapping away her still fragile strength, she tried to stand. Weakness and pain warred for dominance as she teetered and fell to her knees. Emma stifled a tired curse as she tried to catch her breath.

"If you had just called for me, I could have helped you out of bed." Regina stood just inside the doorframe, leaning casually against the brightly painted wood.

Reaching back blindly, the blonde pulled one of the blankets free of the queen sized bed. Throwing it over her own shoulders, Emma covered her blushing nakedness. She tried not to focus too much on how wonderfully sensitive her freshly healed skin happened to be, or how her nipples strained pleasantly against the freshly laundered duvet.

"So modest." The brunette pushed away from the door, swaggering lightly into the room before perching onto the edge of the bed.

"Who do you think got you out of those disgusting scraps to begin with?"

Unable to right herself, Emma simply slumped weakly to her side, bundled up tightly in her makeshift dressing gown.

"Doesn't mean I want you staring."

She felt more than saw Regina roll her eyes. The bed shifted as the former Queen studied a perfectly manicured hand.

"Now, care to explain how there came to be two Golds? Or how Belle came to be walking leisurely through my woods?"

"Same way I came to know so much about you and this wonderful little curse you have brewing here."

Sharp brown eyes studied her. Emma continued.

"Gold came through with me in whatever portal sent me here."

The brunette snorted delicately.

"I refuse to believe that you're some sort of…traveller through time."

Emma shrugged, the gesture masked mostly by the bulky blanket.

"Believe what you want." She burrowed deeper, sleep and rising depression beckoning. "If Gold came through, that means my son didn't."

"Ah yes, your son." The smaller brunette was leaning curiously over the side of the bed now, peering down into the blanket covered mass. "Why do I get the impression you haven't told me everything about your wayward child?"

"Henry." Darkness encroached as her body grew slack. "His name is Henry Mills."

7-7-7

Wood splintered painfully as she struggled to pry the damp-deadened floorboard free from Regina's patio. Sweat had started to trickle down the curve of her spine to gather unpleasantly at the small of her back. Her iconic white tank top was starting to cling wetly to her upper back. Taking another high swing, she brought the claw side of the hammer down and into the rotting wood beneath her.

Glancing up, Emma smiled through the discomfort as a familiar shape darkened the air above her.

Regina knelt, her face barely an inch from the Sheriff's. Unconsciously, she licked her thumb before dusting it over the long track of grime that marred the blonde's jawline.
"You're worse than Henry. Neither one of you can stay clean."

"Well, he comes by it honestly." Emma smiled in tired contentment. "Besides, I can't have you and Henry out here on this. Its not safe."

In the near distance she could hear crickets. She wondered briefly if Archie ever yearned for his old, fairytale life. Or if he and a few choice others didn't see the Evil Queen so much as a villain, but as a strange sort of savior. Not that any of them would ever tell Snow's prodigal daughter that.

Digging into another, rotting board, she pulled away another piece of the massive deck.

"How did you go for almost thirty years without anyone taking care of this for you?"

Regina stilled as she started to rise. She cleared her throat huskily. "Graham used to handle these things for me. Felt it was his responsibility given…" The smaller woman turned away to disappear into the darkened kitchen.

"Regina, wait."

"I killed him Emma. I killed him out of jealousy and vengeance, because I thought he was mine." She pinned the blonde with a hard, hateful look. "Nothing we do in the here and now will ever make up for what I used to be."

"Regina…"

"Villains don't get happy endings."

Her lower back screamed as Emma stood suddenly.

"Maybe not. But villains don't always stay villains." She took a hesitant step forward towards Regina's stiff, hunching back. Reaching out slowly, Emma's fingers rested lightly on the Mayor's delicately muscled shoulder.

Regina's head turned slightly. "Not in my world."

7-7-7

Something smelled like heaven dipped in basil. The scent pulled her from the strange halfway house of time she kept finding herself in. Opening a still blackened eye, she peered curiously at the nightstand. A massive bowl of fragrant soup stood steaming just within reach. Her stomach growled happily, eagerly.

Mouth watering in agonizing anticipation, she tried to launch herself upright.

A rather unsettling sound akin to grinding accompanied the movement. Her breath left her in a pained wheeze.

"If you could muster some patience, Miss Swan, I would assist you."

The brunette breezed in, a long silk robe hugging her frame in ways that made Emma's mouth water in a completely new way. With a flick of her wrist, a long strip of cloth materialized in her hands as she settled into what was becoming her place on the edge of Emma's mattress.

She brushed the cloth napkin over the blonde's lap, oblivious to the ridiculousness of the gesture.

"Now." Her smile, always that odd mixture of malice and the promise of something decadent, was plastered across her thin features. "Isn't that better?"

She watched Emma eat silently for several minutes, her eyes idly tracking the stiff movements.

"I wanted to ask about something you said last night." Emma froze, spoon midway to her heat reddened lips. "You mentioned that you had a son, the boy you were looking for."

Emma looked down into the steaming bowl of soup, her forehead crinkled in thought.

"Yes. He's mine…ours. It's complicated."

"He's not biologically mine."

The blonde cocked her head curiously. "No, but does that matter?"

"I doubt seriously that I could come to love something that's not of my own flesh and blood." Regina sneered slightly. "I'm not the mothering kind."

Emma's lie detector pinged unhappily.

"Maybe not to start with, but he gave you something this happy ending of yours left out."

A quirked brow was the blonde's only response.

"He gave you your second chance. He believed in you."

The Mayor's smile was almost sad. "There are no second chances for people like me."

Emma set the soup aside. "You've said that before, and I was too much of a coward to tell you any different."

The blonde stared down into her still healing hands. They had gone through so much in these last few months of her life. Always broken and covered in blood. She opened her right hand; the palm calloused from recent years of wielding both a sword and a gun. A hand now made for fighting, when once they had soothed.

Reaching over, she gently took Regina's long fingers. "I have always believed in you. In the old world, you were the Evil Queen. Here, you're Regina Mills. And you can be whatever, whomever, you choose to be."

The brunette's grip tightened painfully. "What if I choose to continue to be the Evil Queen? What if I can't be anything else?"

Emma tried to keep the wince out of her voice. "I'll teach you."

"I doubt very much that you're capable of such a feat Miss Swan."

7-7-7

She leaned back against the countertop gingerly. Regina bustled quietly, tendrils of purple smoke trailing behind her. Ingredients appeared seemingly at random, littering the work surfaces. This was new. Her version of the regal woman actually ventured out to the local grocery store on a routine basis. Complete with a weekly menu and shopping list. It was all predictably, endearingly anal-retentive.

Decades spent without magic had instilled the quaint little habit.

Closing her eyes, Emma let the past cave in, memories over-lapping easily. Regina standing in a newer, modern kitchen, laughing brightly as Henry clumsily poured flour into a massive Kitchen Aid mixer. Emma and Henry whispering softly as they tried to cobble together a decently cooked breakfast for the slumbering, flu-ridden Mayor.

She lost herself for long moments, Regina's puttering becoming a vague backdrop of white noise. She ached so much for her old life, her poorly knit together family that had finally started to solidify. To have them become her own, uniquely happy ending. Hers.

A quiet sigh unknowingly escaped the blonde.

Regina turned, watching as Emma's gaze drifted away. So very, very like Rumple's own distant stare. It made her skin crawl, dread skittering up her spine. But she somehow couldn't see that same glimmer of evil, of malice leaking from every pore. Emma was instead almost bright and shining. The smaller woman shook her head hard in irritation. Waxing poetic didn't suit her.

Half an hour later and they were sitting awkwardly at the Mayor's overly large dining room table. Emma tried not to notice how out of place she looked...and felt. The too-white tablecloth was set with a plethora of heavy, expensive silverware, coupled with delicately thin dinner and side plates.

Emma fidgeted, picking up the various utensils with overly careful hands. The smooth metal caught in the crevices of her calloused palms, almost emphasizing how common the blonde felt when in the company of the older woman. She set them down carefully, fingertips realigning them absently in the way Henry had taught her. How the Mayor had taught him.

Regina was starting to find the taller woman's bumbling rather…quaint, much to her dismay. The brunette leaned back, watching the blonde eat slowly, deliberately. As if she was accustomed to protecting her food.

"So Miss Swan, tell me more about this rather complicated future of ours."

Emma froze, her fork scraping slightly against the expensive porcelain.

"Our…future?"

"Well yes. You said we shared a son." Regina's eyes grew darker, a seductive smile pulling at lush lips. "Do we share anything else?"

Something warm and sweet tickled the pit of Emma's stomach. She fought to keep it from travelling further south.

"No."

Regina's smile grew larger as she took a large sip of wine.

"I find that rather hard to believe." She crossed her legs slowly, eyeing the blonde darkly over the rim of her crystal glass.

The Evil Queen had always used the baser desires of those around her to bend them to her will. And a part of her wanted to unwrap the blonde's mystery, however she needed to. But more than that, she wanted to feel whatever small sliver of love this stranger carried around for her. Selfishly, she had always craved love. Its what led her to try and steal away Hansel and Gretel. To kill Kurt Flynn in hopes of taking his son…the only one who had shown her true kindness in so many, many years.

But Emma was no fool. She had seen Regina at her best…or worst depending on your point of view. She refused to be played by the smaller woman, who already knew far too much of Emma's feelings. And this version of the Mayor was decidedly crueler. More cunning.

"I think maybe its time I turned in for the night." The Sheriff stood, carrying her plates away with her to the kitchen.

She felt more than saw Regina drift in behind her. Her mood darkening as the chase started to get away from her. Emma could sense it, the coming storm. The brunette's rage would be sharp, painful, when she realized she wasn't getting her way. When the prey somehow wiggled free.

But Emma was conflicted, a part of her wanted to get caught. To become the Mayor's property of a sort. Maybe the Huntsman's life hadn't been so bad after all. She could see herself serving the beautiful, dark woman. Regardless of what it cost her soul, she would serve the Queen gladly. That was always the danger with this Regina, seducing to the point of a person forfeiting their free will. Forfeiting it ever so willingly.

"The future isn't set. No matter what Gold or your Mother ever told you…you always have a choice."

Setting her plates gently inside the beautiful ceramic sink that dominated the Quaker style kitchen, Emma turned to cup Regina's cool, delicately curved cheek.

"And we will meet it together."

She turned away towards the stairs, leaving the conflicted Mayor behind her.