Ruby leaving feels somewhat like a punch in the gut. If that punch was delivered by a five hundred pound gorilla wearing knuckledusters.
"She'll be back in no time, sweetheart," Lena smiles at her as she sulks over breakfast the next morning. "Just you wait and see. No one can stay away from that little munchkin for long," she adds, nodding her head towards where Henry is helping Mal wash out jam jars for spell ingredients.
"I hope you're right," Emma sighs, then pulls out her phone to check the time, cursing internally as she sees they're running late. "Henry!" she calls over to him. "You're gonna be late for school again."
She hurries him along the hallway to the classroom, and when they finally reach the door she debates for a full second before deciding knocking is better - rather than just blasting it open as she usually would.
"Come in," the now familiar voice calls from the other side, and Emma pushes Henry gently by his backpack.
"Go on, sweetie," she urges, and he turns the handle and enters.
"Sorry I'm late, Miss Mills," he says, and Emma watches as he disappears out of sight from the opening, presumably to his desk.
"Thank you for apologising, Henry, but please try not to do it again. It's very disruptive to the rest of the class."
Emma can hear in the tone that that statement is pointed at her, not the kid, and can't help the smirk that tugs at her mouth.
"Bethan, look after the class for a moment," Regina says then before slipping out to where Emma is now leaning up against the wall. She pulls the door shut behind her, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I mean it, you know. You have to stop bringing him late," she tells her in hushed tones. There's authority in it, enough that Emma knows she's going to pay attention, not quite so much that it stops her smirk blossoming into a full smile.
"Hey," she says, by way of response.
Regina lets out an exasperated sigh. "Hello, Emma."
"Henry wants you over for dinner again," she murmurs, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb any of the surrounding classes. "Will you come?"
Regina's own mouth starts pulling into a smile, though she tries to hide it. "I believe I already told you - if you want me to come to dinner again, you'll have to explain the logic behind it."
Emma lets out a quiet chuckle. "It's a very long story, probably better if the Aunts tell you. Over dinner."
"Fine, fine," Regina rolls her eyes. "I suppose I can drag myself over there."
The blonde grins at her. "Friday okay?"
"Friday's wonderful."
"Awesome. I'll see you later then," she smiles, turning to leave. Regina turns back to the classroom, hand poised on the door handle to reopen it, but as she moves the door flies open of its own accord, and she's left looking from her startled class, down the corridor to the retreating waves of blonde hair, and back again.
Henry grins at her from the back row.
Dinner swiftly becomes a regular thing. Not by any form of deliberate arrangement or organisation, but just because it seems the natural progression of things. Everyone in the Swan house enjoys having Regina over for dinner, and Regina enjoys everyone in the Swan house.
Most weeks, dinner happens on a Friday, more often than not dissolving into Margaritas once the kid's in bed - though Emma's careful not drink as much as she did the first time, just in case her mind starts fooling with her again. She notices that Regina doesn't drink as much either, but assumes that's because the woman's a teacher, and is far too upstanding to get hammered every friday night, at a student's house no less.
Occasionally, when Henry begs or the Aunts insist or Emma feels the table looks like it's missing someone that morning at breakfast, dinner happens more often. She knows now - the two of them are close enough - that Regina rarely has evening plans. Wednesday night the assembled teaching staff of Storybrooke's Elementary, Middle and High school tend go to the bar together for a drink or two, and in the interests of keeping up a good working relationship with her colleagues, Emma knows Regina always makes an effort to go. Not that she always enjoys it - a fact in which Emma can't help but secretly delight in.
"They're just such disgusting hypocrites!" Regina rants into the phone at her as she herself pads down the stairs, the sound of Henry's soft breathing drifting to her from his bedroom. "Roger - you know Roger, teaches eighth grade?"
"Mr Freeman," Emma nods. The man had given both she and Ruby particular hell when they'd been in his class.
"Yes, well, he just kept making snide comment after snide comment about this town's 'problem', referring to you all of course, acting as if he's all high and mighty when I know for a fact that he's slipping his wife forgetting potions so he can cheat on her with Ursula."
"Ursula?" Emma asks, flopping onto the couch and pulling a pillow onto her lap.
"Sixth grade teacher." Regina replies, sounding distinctly agitated.
"Mr Freeman's sleeping with Miss Le Mare?" Emma asks, eyes widening. "Ew!"
"Believe me, that's not all that's going on around here," Regina sighs. "You know I didn't realize when I took the job that I'd be coming to work in a soap opera."
"I'd ask, but I really don't think I want to know," Emma grumbles. "That place already traumatized me enough."
It's a joke, but it's a little bit too close to the truth for either of them to laugh at it, and they both fall silent for a minute.
"Wait," Emma says, finally breaking the silence. "How do you know about the forgetting potions?"
"Lena was talking to me about it," the other woman says, voice full of nonchalance, and Emma finds herself a little stunned.
"You...talk to her. Without me?"
"Yes."
"Oh," Emma huffs out.
"Why - is that a problem?"
"No...no, it's just. I dunno, I guess I didn't think about it. I mean, don't get me wrong, the Aunts love you!" she adds, before Regina can be made to feel unwanted - she'd never want that. "I just...I guess I didn't realise that you, well that you…" she trails off.
"Emma?" Regina asks, and her voice is gentle.
"Yes?"
"Your family are my favorite people in this entire town. Of course I enjoy speaking with them. I enjoy speaking with all of you."
"Oh," Emma finds that she's grinning. "Cool."
Regina doesn't say anything, but the silence is comfortable, companionable. It's been a good couple of months now, since the woman first arrived - but the blonde finds that she still can't quite believe that they've managed to shanghai the woman onto their side. She still half expects her to wake up and realise that they're witches and make a grab for her pitchfork. Every little reminder that this isn't the case never fails to put a smile on her face.
"I'm sorry for calling you just to rant," Regina apologizes, breaking the quiet.
Emma chuckles then, low and soft. "Don't apologize. It's kinda funny."
"Well, I'm pleased I amuse you then," she quips back.
"You do," the blonde replies, but her tone has turned more serious. She can't put into words how grateful she is to no longer be alone, to have a friend by her side who's loyal enough that she sides with her rather than her own colleagues. It eases a weight within her she'd almost forgotten was there, as accustomed to it as she'd become.
They fall back into silence for a few moments longer, but Regina breaks it again. "I should head to bed, school tomorrow."
"Course," Emma nods, more to herself than anything, since the action can't be seen. "You're coming to dinner friday, right?"
There's a pause on the other end and Emma's heart leaps to her throat, panic that she knows is ridiculous coursing through her.
"Need you ask?" the other woman eventually responds, and Emma's mouth pulls up again into a relieved smile.
"Good. Night, Regina."
"Goodnight, Emma," Regina's velvety voice replies.
Regina has never been one to stoop to the vulgarities of slang phrasing, but if she had, then right now she'd have to admit to herself that she's totally, thoroughly screwed.
She didn't mean for dinner to become a regular thing or, in fact, for the Swan's themselves to become a regular thing, but somehow they've nestled their way in and by the time she'd noticed it it was already too late. She'd wanted to be their friend, to be Emma's friend, until she'd woken up and realized that she was feeling the beginnings of things, things that would make everything far too complicated.
So she'd decided to try and get some distance. To spend a little time apart, make some new friends in town. Except two days later Henry had come pottering over to her desk after school was finished with a shy smile on his face and asked if she was going to come to dinner again. And how in heaven and hell could she say no?
After that, every time she decided the point had come at which she should withdraw herself from the company of the Swans, one or other of them would ask if she wanted to do something - dinner, margaritas, even just tutoring Henry - and she'd look into the eyes of whichever Swan was asking and be helpless to say no. Whether small honest brown, piercing blue, or striking bright green, Regina had been finding she was powerless to resist any of their requests. Lena had even attempted to get her in on some seasonal witch ceremony, and it had only been Emma's violently shaking head behind her Aunt that had persuaded her to say no.
It shouldn't be a problem, any of this. After all, who wouldn't want to be semi-adopted into a family of excitable, warm-hearted witches? It shouldn't be a problem, but it just so happens that one of those witches is beautiful, and funny, and quite literally magical - and Regina's almost certain she's doomed to end up head over heels for her. If that weren't problem enough, she's already head over heels for the woman's son. Henry has her heart so completely that, when she stops to think about it, it scares her a little. She's so attached to the boy there's not a doubt in her mind she'd do anything for him. Lay down her life for example, or pretend that she's not falling for his mother so she can stay a part of his life.
As it is, as screwed as she is, Regina can't quite find it in herself to care. She's happy, being an odd extension to this bizarre little family. And no matter how certain she is that it's all eventually going to end in heartbreak (hers), when all is said and done she knows it's worth it for the joy they all bring her in the present. They're all worth whatever pain they bring her.
"Buh-o-wuh-el, bowl," Henry finishes his spelling list with a grin and the table bursts into applause.
"Well done, darling," Mal coos at him, "you're getting so much better."
"No no no, that's not the best bit yet," he insists with an adorable, determined scowl, "you have to wait."
Lena looks to Regina across the table. "There's more?"
Regina smiles knowingly, turning to Henry. "Why don't you show them?"
He wiggles in his chair, straightening up so he's sitting taller, looking like he's about to do something he's awfully proud of. Regina feels warmth swell in her chest at the sight.
"Kind," he starts, "kay-eye-en-dee."
Emma's eyes widen. "Henry? Did you just use grown up letters?"
His face splits into a toothy grin and he nods. Her green eyes turn to Regina, face full of wonder and pride. "You taught him grown up letters?"
"He was very eager to learn them once he finally got the hang of the simpler ones," she smiles, feeling almost shy from the way Emma's looking at her.
"But...but he could barely spell three letter words before."
"I know!" Henry cries. "It's great! I'm as good as the rest of the class now, momma, better. Now I'm good at spells and ings!"
The blonde scoots out of her chair to go and sweep him up into a bear hug, ruffling his hair. "I'm so proud of you, baby," she grins.
"Miss Mills teaches good," he replies, and the adults all laugh gently.
"Maybe not that good," Emma tells him, shooting a look in Regina's direction, and the brunette finds she can only roll her eyes in response.
"I like Miss Mills," Henry says, little voice assured, and Emma's eyes remain locked with Regina's.
"Me too, Henry," she murmurs. "Me too."
"Time to celebrate!" Mal crows and Regina is happy to find that her immediate reaction to the sight of the Margarita jugs is no longer one of pure terror.
"Midnight Margaritas?" Emma exclaims excitedly as she reappears in the doorway. "Good decision!"
"Would it ever be anything otherwise, dear?" Lena winks, and Emma just rolls her eyes, expression one of such fondness that Regina finds herself staring. There's so much love in this woman, how the rest of the town can't see it she just doesn't know.
She stands back and takes her now usual place in the corner, watching the magic show of preparation with the same wonder she always does. No matter how many times she watches this strange dance, it will never not be mesmerizing.
"Regina, darling?" Lena asks, startling her. This isn't part of the dance.
"Yes?" she asks, brow raising.
"Could you get the salt?"
The brunette stares at her for what feels like a solid minute. This is their routine, she's never been a part of it. The three women have it down to an art. She can't possibly imagine any need for her to be involved.
Lena seems to see the confusion flickering in her eyes, because a sly smile lifts the corners of her lips. "It's about time you contributed, don't you think? We're not your slaves, you know?" She winks.
A little gasp escapes her mouth, the weight of what Lena's saying not lost on her. She's really not just a guest anymore, she's being included. She's being invited into the dance. Regina's mouth pulls into a shy smile in response, heart twisting with warmth.
"Of course I'll get it," she replies, "I'd be happy to."
Lena puts a gentle hand on her arm. "Thank you, dear." Then she turns back to the kitchen and redirects a stream of tequila over her head and into a jug.
"Emma, I picked up your purse last night by mistake and I just…" Regina trails off as she realizes Emma's not behind the counter. The shop's empty. Her brow furrows as she looks around, she can hear talking coming from somewhere - and the door to the storeroom is open. Frown deepening, Regina walks to the open door, taking a tiny step inside and peering around.
Her heart lifts to her throat.
Emma's standing with her back pressed up against a stack of shelving, expression thunderous. There's a man standing very close to her, and though Regina can't quite see his face, his body language is intimidating.
"You're scum," he spits at Emma and she stares back at him with murder in her expression. "A freak. You don't belong here, none of you. You don't belong anywhere. We're going to burn you, all of you. Take you to the square like one of your ancestors and throw you on the fire. Your witchy little son too."
At that Emma's nostrils flare, danger sparking in her fierce green eyes. "Take it back," she growls.
The man laughs, "Take what back?"
"About my son. Take it back."
He moves closer, getting right up into her face. "Your son is devil spawn. He's going to hell with the rest of you."
Regina can almost see the wave of magic as it rolls off the other woman. A ripple of energy that bursts from her like an explosion. It hits into the man with a thud, and he stumbles backwards, arms windmilling to keep himself from falling. There's little point to the motion though, as he ends up on the floor anyway - not from the fall, but because he has shrunk considerably. He ribbits.
Regina's eyes widen as Emma bends forward and scoops him up. She raises the hand to her face, looking at it sternly. "You threaten my family again and your wife finds out about the beauty potions - no one likes to kiss a man who drinks chicken's blood at breakfast."
The frog ribbits again, loudly.
"Glad we're clear." She smiles, though it's a little more threatening than gleeful. "Now hop along home, Mr Dawson."
She lowers her hand back to the floor and the frog practically flies from it, Regina has to scoot back out of the way of the door as he hops past her, desperation in the energy of it. She watches as the glass shop door opens for him and he carries on a pace down Main Street.
There's an amused chuckle from behind her and she turns just in time to watch as Emma catches sight of her, all the amusement falling from her face in an instant. Her eyes widen, expression one of utter terror as she looks at the woman.
"Regina?" she asks, though Regina can only blink at her.
"Oh my god," the blonde whispers, and the terror on her face starts to give way to panic. "Oh my god."
"Emma?" Regina finally manages to ask, and the other woman crumples in on herself a bit.
"No," she murmurs, stepping past Regina and into the shop. "No no no no, you weren't meant to see that, you shouldn't have… why are you here?" she asks, voice distraught.
"I have your purse," she replies, feeling a little dumbstruck. "I was just… I was just returning it."
Emma brings her hands up to her face, scrubbing at it. Then she turns back to Regina. "Please don't… Regina, I can… please," she begs, though for what Regina isn't sure.
Regina swallows, trying to wrap her head around what she's just seen. It's not like she hasn't been watching Emma and the Aunts perform magic for months now, not like she hasn't gotten quite used to it. But most of that is just practical magic - making margaritas, opening doors, clearing the table. It dawns on her that she's never actually seen any of them do proper magic. Everything they do in front of her is more like telekinesis but this, this is real magic. What Emma just did was a spell, a proper spell, something that changed something.
"Please, Regina, please, I'm sorry."
"He… he'll be alright, won't he?" she asks, tentative.
Emma nods furiously. "He'll be totally back to normal in fifteen minutes - twenty tops."
The brunette nods to herself. That's all she needed to know. Watching Emma do something like that to another person was a shock, certainly - but it's not like he didn't deserve it. And the damage, if you can really call it that, isn't permanent. Which means there are far more pressing concerns. "And what about you? Are you alright?"
The blonde looks startled by that question. "M-me?"
"He looked like he meant business," Regina explains, eyeing her up and down, just in case he managed to inflict some injury before she'd arrived. "You are okay, aren't you?"
Emma cocks her head to the side, brow creasing. "You're worried about me?"
Regina's own forehead furrows at that. "Of course I am. That man was horrid."
"But I turned him into a frog," Emma blinks at her. "Don't you hate me now?"
She can't help the startled laugh that falls from her mouth. It's not even meant for Emma, more for herself. Because that idea is so thoroughly ridiculous - and the fact that it can be after just having watched her turn someone into a frog is perhaps even more ridiculous. She's not sure there is a bone in her body that is capable of hating Emma, she has her heart far too securely for that.
Emma's face takes on an expression not dissimilar to that of a confused puppy.
"Emma," Regina takes a small step towards her, reaching a hand out to place on her arm. Startled green eyes look down to the hand and then up to her face. "I could never hate you."
"But I...he…you saw me turn him into a frog!" she protests.
Regina shrugs, "Not the most usual method of dealing with bastards, I'll admit, but it's clearly effective."
Emma stares at her, the vulnerability on her face startling.
"You're not scared of me," she whispers, incredulous. Regina's not sure whether it's a question or not, but she shakes her head anyway.
"I hate the way people in this town treat you," she sighs. "But I suppose at least you can defend yourself."
Emma continues to stare at her for another long moment, and then the blonde is surging forwards and there are arms wrapped around her neck, blonde hair in her face.
The hug catches her off-guard, but once her brain catches up she laces her own arms around Emma's waist. The other woman is holding her tightly, and she can't help but think it's amazing how well they fit together.
"Thank you," Emma mumbles into her hair, and Regina squeezes her tighter, breathing her in. Emma's hair smells like lavender and cinnamon, like spell ingredients. Her hands, clasped to her arms behind Regina's neck, are sparking ever so slightly, the magic sending tiny tingles down her spine.
Regina closes her eyes, exhaling slowly as the full extent of the truth dawns on her for the first time.
She's hopelessly, helplessly, in love with a witch.
