The kiss...the kiss had been...everything. Emma hadn't even been ready for it, hadn't ever thought it would happen, but as soon as her lips pressed to Regina's she knew, deep down in her soul, that it was everything she'd been waiting for and never known she was missing. The noise that struggled to break free from Regina's throat as soon as their lips connected, something between a truly desperate whine, sob, and moan, sent an incredible heat radiating straight down her spine. The heat in contrast with the softness of Regina's lips was so utterly captivating that she could not for one second get her brain to kick into gear and consider that maybe, just maybe, this was out of character, that this was something they should not be doing, at least not without discussing first. Even if she'd tried to pull her brain back into the moment, it would have been shoved back into its fog when Regina's tongue slipped out and ran along her bottom lip before her teeth grabbed a hold of it and pulled with just enough force to draw a moan from Emma's chest. It was as if the entire world narrowed down and was existing solely between their mouths, their parted lips, and their rapidly shallowing breaths.
And then suddenly it was happiness, warmth, tenderness, a future, all dancing in her mind and within a second she could feel the violent trembling start in her wrist and move to the fingertips that had, at some point, found their way into Regina's hair. And no, just no. This could not be that. This could not be happening. This could not be everything. This could not be happiness and a future. This was Regina and Regina might be everything but she could not be everything like that. She couldn't be because she was still mourning a soulmate. She couldn't be because Emma had just lost Hook, a man she'd gone to hell and back for, a man she'd been engaged to less than 2 weeks ago and that all had to mean more than just some throw away relationship. She couldn't be because Emma was the Savior and Saviors don't get happy endings. She couldn't be because Emma had a prophecy to fulfill and a near certain death fast approaching and she could not, would not, let Regina love her only to leave her with yet another dead love.
The shaking of her hand did not go unnoticed by Regina, nor did the way her lips had stopped responding to her kisses or the way the look on Emma's face had turned to one of terror. Regina pulled back to look at her, to try to make eye contact, and Emma could see the concern on her features that mingled with hurt and more than a little fear. Those were two more reasons why this could absolutely not be happening. Whatever this was had just barely started and she was already hurting Regina. She could not, would not, be responsible for any more pain in Regina's life, not if she could help it.
"I'm-I'm sorry." was all she managed to mutter before she poofed away in a cloud of silvery smoke.
She ran. She knew she was running, but she also knew she had to. It was better for Regina this way. It had to be.
When Emma reappeared she was only slightly surprised to find that she'd poofed herself to Regina's vault. The look that the Queen, who was sitting on a chaise across the room, gave her said that she was rather more surprised than Emma herself. After giving her a quick onceover, taking in her reddened cheeks, the hair half pulled from its ponytail, her eyes lingering for just a moment too long on Emma's topless chest and torso, she simply arched one eyebrow at her, stood, moved towards her and, with a wave of her hand, conjured a soft grey Henley to cover up Emma's nakedness and two apple martinis (red, not green), holding one out for Emma to take. With only a moment's hesitation Emma reached out and took the proffered beverage, gulping it down in two swallows. The Queen raised both eyebrows at that but still said nothing as she gave another little wiggle of her fingers and Emma watched as her glass refilled. She took another large sip of her newly refilled drink and then moved past the Queen, flopping gracelessly down onto the chaise and only just barely managing not to spill her drink in the process. The Queen remained silently watching her, she could feel the eyes on her but avoided looking at her opting instead to stare at the ceiling and hope the strong drink in her hand would dull the ache in her chest and quiet the thoughts tumbling around in her head.
"So, Miss Swan, would you care to tell me why it is you're barging into my private property in the middle of the night or do you just intend to sit there and drink all of my liquor?"
Emma allowed her head to loll to one side, scowling at the Queen.
"You're the one who made the drinks, I didn't ask you too, and besides how can I be 'drinking all your liquor' if you just magicked it up from thin air?"
"It's the principal of the thing, Emma." The Queen gave her a haughty look before taking a sip of her own drink and daintily plucking the apple slice that garnished the glass off with two fingers before taking bite. They settled into what was clearly a stalemate, the Queen refusing to back down from inquisitively regarding her, and Emma refusing to speak about what had brought her to the vault.
Emma had just finished her second martini, the Queen more than halfway through her own, when possibly the most unexpected and random of questions popped into her head.
"How old are you?"
"Excuse me?"
"How old are you?"
"Miss Swan, that is a highly inappropriate thing to ask a Queen."
"Oh come on Regina, it's not that big of a deal." The Queen moved over to a chair that looked rather a lot like a throne and sat down with far more straight-backed elegance than should be humanly possible at this hour.
"So I'm Regina now, am I?"
"Yup." Emma said accentuating the end of the word with an exaggerated pop before shoving her own apple slice into her mouth and crunching down on it, returning her gaze to the ceiling. As the minutes ticked by she began to feel the alcohol hitting her system, warming her from the inside out and sending a pleasant tingling to her fingers and toes. There was a haze settling over her mind it she could feel her muscles relaxing as if she were sinking into the couch. She glanced over at her empty glass and tried wiggling her own fingers at it for a refill but nothing happened. She tried a second time and again, nothing. Suddenly, as she watched, a trickle of red appeared in the bottom of the glass, the level of liquid steadily rising until it made it to just below the brim at which point it stopped, a sprinkling of sugar dusted the rim, and a thin slice of apple blinked into existence balanced perfectly half in and half out of the drink.
"You should really practice more. So much talent, all going to waste."
"Hey, I was the Dark One for months! I know how to use my magic!"
"Mmm, clearly dear."
"Look, just cause I can't conjure a martini doesn't mean I'm any less competent with my magic than you are." Emma sat up and swung her legs back to the floor, grabbing her newly refreshed drink and causing some of the liquid inside to slosh over the edge and onto her fingers.
"Oh my dear, you truly have no idea what I'm capable of if you think your level of magical knowledge is anywhere near mine." The Queen's tone was mocking and had a hint of a growl to it, but it was not harsh. In fact she seemed almost playful. Emma looked offended and more than a little annoyed, giving an aggravated huff and crossing her one arm petulantly over her chest before taking another long gulp of her drink.
"You never answered my question Regina."
"What question?" The Queen was playing dumb though she knew exactly what it was Emma was asking.
"Your age. How old are you?"
"Before I answer you tell me, would you ask your Regina this?"
"My Regina?" Emma looked confused in a way that told the Queen that the strength of her drinks, and the speed at which the Savior was downing them, was just starting to hamper her ability to think clearly.
"You know what I mean. Would you ask her? I assume your answer is no since you clearly never have or you'd have no need to ask me."
"Whatever Regina, if you're gonna get all weird about it then forget it." Emma put her glass down on the nearby table with more force than necessary, her body language telling the Queen that while she was trying to keep the conversation light and seemingly meaningless, something was clearly bothering her deeply. She crossed both arms over her body, tucking her hands under her armpits as if to hide them, her leg was jiggling and bouncing up and down, her eyes darting around rather than making eye contact.
"How about this. You try to figure out my age, and I'll tell you if you guess correctly?"
Emma rolled her eyes, finally looking directly at the Queen.
"Why can't you just tell me?"
"Why do you want to know so badly? Look, Emma, humor me. With what you know of my life you should be able to puzzle out my age if it's really that important to you."
"Alright fine. What is this, some version of 20 questions?"
"Sure dear, if that's how you'd like to do this. You get 20 questions about my life and I'll tell you yes or no. If you correctly guess my age at the end I'll tell you, if not, well I suppose you'll just have to try harder next time." The Queen knew she was being evasive, and other than the fact that her age, what with curses and lost time, was a bit of a touchy subject for her, she was mostly being secretive to try to keep the other woman engaged in conversation and perhaps distract from whatever was so clearly troubling her. Emma, never one to shy away from a challenge, looked at her with a curious expression on her face before squinting her eyes as if scrutinizing her appearance. The Queen felt herself draw up under the visual inspection, her spine straightening even further than usual (if that we possible) despite the fact that she knew Emma would gather no clues as to her real age from her looks. Time may have started moving again since the curse was broken and with its passage she had certainly gained a few new wrinkles, but she still look far younger than her years.
"Alright. You've got a deal." Emma watched the Queen carefully, taking in for the first time since she'd arrived at the vault the skin tight sapphire blue velour dress she'd hardly noticed. It was truly stunning, clearly something from her Enchanted Forest wardrobe, with a high neckline and just enough padding on the shoulders to enhance the noble line of her collarbones. There was beautiful jeweled filigree in blue stones, all slightly lighter shades than the dress itself, along the neckline and at the Queen's waist, drawing the eye to the shape of her body. The Queen seemed to hold up well under Emma's intense stare, her face remaining impassive as she raised her martini to her lips and took a sip, licking the rim to gather some of the red and white sugar there into her mouth just before she pulled the glass away and turned to Emma, an eyebrow cocked and a half smile crossing her lips that said she knew Emma was looking at her just a little too long for it to be a part of their little game. Emma shook her head and shut her eyes, drinking more of her own martini before thinking that maybe more alcohol was not what she needed.
"Ok Queenie, let's play."
"Do get on with it, Savior."
"Ok, so...you were Snow's stepmother...that makes you older than Snow."
"Is that a question?"
"Um...yeah?"
"Then yes, I'm older than Snow."
"And Snow was what, 10 when she met you?"
"Yes."
"And you married her father, but I think you were younger than him, right?"
"Yes, I was younger than the King." A flicker of something crossed the Queen's face before she pushed it aside, coming and going so quickly that Emma would have missed it had she not been paying such close attention. As it was she took the Queen's reaction as a clue, considering what it might mean.
"You were substantially younger than him, weren't you?" Another flicker of that same something that made Emma feel like maybe this game wasn't such a good idea after all.
"Yes."
"Ok...so you were...20?"
"No."
"21?"
"No." There is was, that flicker again but stronger this time and it had Emma's stomach sinking as she realized her guesses were going in the wrong direction.
"Um...19?"
"No." The Queen was trying to looking unaffected but she was failing miserably, the subtle shift in her posture showing how uncomfortable she was with the current line of questioning.
"Look, Regina, we can stop. I don't really need to know your age, so if you want to, we can stop. Do you want me to stop?"
"You're wasting questions Emma." Emma tried to read the other woman's thoughts through her expression but she was refusing to look directly at her, instead running her finger along her glass collecting condensation on its tip and watching the droplet fall to the floor as if it were fascinating. With her voice squeaking a bit in a way that showed that she too was beginning to feel how touchy a subject she had stumbled upon, Emma continued.
"18?"
"Yes." The Queen's voice was nearly a whisper and after a beat she followed up with, "Only just." Emma felt bile rise in her throat but decided to push onwards rather than linger on something that was obviously making the other woman supremely uncomfortable.
"So, 8 years between you and Snow. Ok...and I know Snow was 18 when her father died. So that would make you 28 when you..." She trailed off, unsure how this topic would go over given how the Queen had reacted so far. Much to her relief the Queen seemed to slip back into her comfortably haughty persona, her eyes twinkling as she finished Emma's sentence.
"When I drove Snow from the castle and wrenched power from her meek little hands? Indeed dear, the very same age you were when you rushed into my town and attempted your own little overthrow of my reign."
"Hahaha, very funny Regina."
"Not at all, dear, not at all." Emma ignored the slight growl in the Queen's tone, continuing to think out loud as she attempted to sort out the timeline of Regina's life.
"Since I know the Snow was my age when I got here, or at least she thought she was, that means you were the Queen, "
"The Evil Queen"
"The Queen for 10 years, putting you at 38 when you cast the first dark curse." Emma tried not to dwell on the sudden realization that this meant that Regina had been alone and in so much pain that she thought unimaginable violence was her only option for a solid 10 years, trying instead to stay in the moment and not take this discussion down any more emotional side-trips given the short fuse and unpredictable mood swings of the woman currently watching her carefully as if she knew exactly what Emma was thinking, or trying not to think. "So, 38 when you arrived in Storybrooke, right?"
"Yes."
"And then you were here for my whole life, 28 years by the time I arrived and 5 years since so you're..." Emma went silent, calculating, feeling her fingers moving ever so slightly as she tried to keep track of the addition without actually counting it out on them. Suddenly her face went slack and she stared up at Regina, her mouth hanging open. "Oh my god, Regina you're 71 years old? You're a senior citizen?"
Her eyes swept up and down over the Queen's body, once again taking in her features and the way the dress she was wearing accentuated everything from her curves to her skin tone to the glossy shine of her deep brown hair. The Queen couldn't help the laugh that bubbled forth from her lips as she stood, turning and giving Emma an eye full of the deep v-cut that was the back of her dress before moving to the large mirror on the wall and scrutinizing her own features, looking for wrinkles and pulling at the corners of her eyes as if to smooth them away.
"Why so shocked? Can't handle having a Grandmother that looks better than you do?"
"Oh hell no Regina, just no, you are not my Grandmother. I don't care what our twisted family tree says."
"So you do agree I'm better looking than you?"
"What? I never said that!"
"No perhaps not, but you certainly didn't object." The Queen twirled back around spotting exactly which part of her anatomy the Savior's eyes had been fixated on before a blush rose to Emma's cheeks and she busied herself by taking yet another gulp of her drink and then gave the now once again empty glass a look that said all of this was clearly its fault. The Queen couldn't help but grin wickedly, finding herself quite enjoying the way Emma was reacting to her body. Of course she'd known Emma found her, or rather Regina, attractive. It had been obvious from the day they'd met, and it was something she had tried her damndest to get Regina to take advantage of back when they were at eachother's throats. She'd known it would be simple to seduce the other woman, perhaps it would even have proved to be an enjoyable distraction from the monotony of her life as she had no problem admitting her own physical attraction to the nuisance of a woman. Had she put in even the least bit of effort it would have been so easy to use Emma's desire and their physical chemistry to gain the upper hand. Back then all it would have taken was a few tender moments mixed with lust to break Emma's heart and she was sure the pesky woman would have fled Storybrooke, despite her newfound son, leaving her victorious and her curse intact. But, try as she might, that was a line Regina had never been willing to cross and it was only since Regina had poured some of her love into her darkened heart that she'd started to understand why that was. There was something there, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, a depth to the way she felt when she looked at the woman sitting before her, and she had the sneaking suspicion that, had she followed through on her desire to crush her heart, metaphorically speaking, Emma's would not have been the only heart damaged in the process. She frowned at her own empty glass, her emotions were starting to spill over from the boxes she tried so desperately to keep them neatly tucked away in and she found herself thinking that perhaps Emma's earlier accusatory look at her drink had been right and that the damned alcohol was getting the best of her.
They had been quiet for too long. The playfulness of their game and the teasing that followed had slipped away and Emma once again found herself grappling with the events of the evening, events she would very much rather not be thinking about now that she could feel the liquor pumping through her system and amplifying every sensation. While her eyes had wandered over the Queen's incredible figure her brain decided to remind her of the way Regina's mouth felt against hers, the way her tongue was warm and just wet enough as it ran along her lips, the way her teeth felt against tender skin. When the Queen caught her looking she knew she was blushing, it seemed all the blood in her body had gone to two specific places, her cheeks and distinctly lower, a heat blossoming from her abdomen and sliding down between her legs. There was nothing she could do to hide the redness on her face so instead she busied herself by polishing off her drink, only remembering that she'd decided it was to blame for her horrible state of arousal once she's swallowed the last drops. When she finally dared to look back up at the Queen she was surprised to see a tenderness in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, about last weekend. And about avoiding you since." It took Emma's sluggish brain a minute to catch up to the Queen's non-sequitur, eventually drawing up the reminder of a furious Queen with her hand clutching dangerously tightly at her heart deep within her chest.
"Oh, um...don't worry about. Really. It's fine."
"It's not fine, Emma." The Queen moved to sit next to her on the couch, a move so familiar that it still seemed surprising when done by a woman who, until very recently, had been trying to inflict nothing but damage upon Emma and everyone she loved. "Nothing about what I did was fine. I should never have attacked you like that. I had no right. You could have been killed. I could have killed you."
"But you didn't. I'm ok." Emma nudged the Queen's shoulder with her own, a knowing smile crossing her lips before she stage-whispered "You wouldn't have done it anyway."
"What?" The Queen looked almost offended that Emma would dare question her ability to maim and murder which only made Emma grin even more, her smile going a bit dopey in her now visibly drunken state. "I was seconds away from ripping your heart from your chest, I'll have you know! I have killed people for far less than the things you've done to me."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. You're evil." Emma punctuated the word "evil" with exaggerated air quotes. "Very scary, big bag Queenie out to kill little ol' me. But here's the thing about you R'gina," her words were slurring around the edges now, the Queen realizing that what had been a nudge had turned into Emma leaning against her as she spoke. "You've had so many chances to kill me. Soooo many. But, aside from that thing with the turnover, you've never really acted on any of them. I don't think you really want to kill me. Actually, I think you kinda like having me around."
The Queen was about to argue this, to disagree strongly with Emma's implication that she was anything less than perfectly capable of destroying her, when Emma suddenly shifted positions and laid down on her back, her feet thrown over the higher end of the chaise and her head coming to lay in a cascade of blonde hair across the Queen's lap, her eyes sliding shut. Thoroughly without her permission her hands moved into Emma's hair, beginning to lightly scratch along her scalp and earning her a content little sigh from the other woman.
"I suppose I don't hate having you around. You're not the worst company in the world, and you certainly do keep things interesting what with your constant fumbling of even the most basic magical nuisance."
Emma cracked one eye open and gave an aggravated huff, pointing at herself and stating with extra emphasis,
"Former. Dark. One. Possessor of the evilest evil that ever eviled here lady, so how about we lay off the smug little digs about my abilities with magic?" the Queen rolled her eyes but held up her hands in surrender.
"Oh yes, right, how could I forget? You turned that walking ad for allergy medication into a statue for less than 48hrs, you are definitely the villain to be feared in this room." Though her tone was teasing, a haunted shadow crossed her face and, of course, Emma caught it, sitting up in a second and taking the Queen's hands in her own.
"You did horrible things, I know that. But you've done so much to atone for that and I know you, you're going to keep fighting to be better. You're not a villain, Regina. Not anymore."
"I'm not Regina."
"Yes you are. You are to me."
The Queen could feel the tears coming and, no matter how hard she fought them, she knew they were going to fall and so, to try to avoid them, she did the only other her mind wanted to do at that moment, the thing it had started screaming at her to do as soon as Emma had grabbed her hands and looked at her with that look. With only a breath's hesitation, and with hardly enough time for Emma to pull back even if she wanted to, the Queen moved forward and pressed her lips to Emma's in a kiss so forceful that it would have knocked the other woman over had the high backed end of the chaise not been there to catch her.
Immediately Emma's hands were in her hair and her lips were parting to allow the Queen's tongue to seek out the warmth of her mouth. The Queen deepened the kiss, pleased with Emma's enthusiasm, and before she knew it she was straddling Emma's hips (a true talent given how tight her dress was) as hands wandered from her hair to her waist and then slid themselves around to clutch possessively at her backside. It was only when a throaty moan burst from Emma's throat as she kneaded the supple flesh beneath her fingers did the Queen's lust-clouded mind snap back to reality and realize what she was doing. As quickly as the kiss started it ended with her shoving herself off of Emma, reeling at what she'd just done as she only just managed to stagger to her feet without getting tangled in her skirt.
"I can't. I just can't. I shouldn't have...I can't believe I just did that." Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen, her hands coming up to drag through her usually flawless but now rather mussed hair.
"Regina it's ok. I'm just as much to blame for...that...as you are." Emma was clearly stunned and confused by the Queen's reaction, but she was doing what Emma always did and trying to keep her from blaming herself, from seeing herself as the one at fault. Unfortunately, she knew what she'd just done, felt the significance of it the moment their lips met, felt that peculiar something that she hadn't been able to put her finger on before suddenly slide into focus.
"No Emma, you don't understand. I took something that wasn't mine to take."
"What?" Emma wasn't even bothering to hide her confusion now, her head cocked to one side and her own flushed features making the way she was squinting her eyes look far too adorable.
"The kiss." The Queen was growing frustrated now, unable to comprehend why Emma wasn't more upset by what had just taken place. "I took that kiss and it wasn't mine to take. It should have been hers. Yours and hers. I took your first kiss and I can't give that back."
Emma's face, already red from the obviously aroused state she'd been in, went even redder and her eyes fell to her lap as she went completely still except for the fidgeting of her fingers. The Queen felt her heart sink, her emotions swinging from irritated and angry with herself to guilt-ridden and slightly panicked at how much she had clearly upset Emma. She stumbled over her words, trying to think of the right thing to say to make Emma look at her again.
"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that. Maybe I shouldn't make a big deal out of this. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and I certainly didn't mean to put pressure on you or assume something about your relationship with Regina that I really have no place-"
"You didn't." Emma cut her off mid-ramble, still not looking at her, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
"I didn't what? Assume?"
"No," Emma's eyes rose from the floor just enough to peer up at her through her lashes, "You didn't take our first kiss. We kind of...that already happened."
"What? When?" The Queen was stunned, immediately wracking her brain and blasting through shared memories for a kiss that she had apparently forgotten when suddenly it dawned on her. "Tonight." Realization spread across her features and Emma looked like she wanted to find somewhere to hide. "That's why you showed up here the way you did. You kissed her and you...ran."
If it were possible to become one with the couch she was sure Emma would have done so (nevermind that it actually was possible if the damned woman would just put her mind to it and make use of her magic). The Queen deflated, slumping back down next to Emma and cradling her head in her hands.
"So what was I? Second best? A safe way to have your cake and eat it too?"
"What? No!" Emma looked horrified, her hand falling to the Queen's knee and squeezing. "Absolutely not. Look, I panicked. She asked me to kiss her and I didn't even think I just did it, she was so upset and I wanted to help and she asked and..." Emma's eyes unfocused, her mind clearly wandering back to the events in Regina's study earlier that night. The Queen watched with more than a little envy bubbling up from her gut as longing and tender care flitted across Emma's features. Emma's attention was drawn back to the present when they both looked down at the quivering of the hand on the Queen's knee, a quivering that quickly turned into a shake. Emma stared daggers at the offending appendage. "And then that fucking happened. My stupid hand just started fucking shaking and I had to get out of there."
"You ran because your hand was shaking?" It was the Queen's turn to be confused, unable to understand why Emma would be so embarrassed by a tremor she couldn't control that she would flee from someone who she clearly cared quite deeply about, who the Queen knew cared just as deeply for her.
"I ran because of what it means when my hand starts shaking. It's about my happiness, Regina. It does this when I think about my fucking future. It does this when happiness is right there in front of me." The Queen was still looking at her like she couldn't figure out what she was trying to say, or what it meant. Emma reached out and took the Queen's hand, placing it over her shuddering wrist and wrapping her fingers around the bones so she could feel the intensity of the quaking. Her voice was low and intense when she spoke again, it too having taken on a quiver as fear at what she was admitting crept up her throat.
"My happy ending. It get like this when my happy ending is right there, just waiting for me to reach out and take it, a reminder that I won't be able to hold on to it even if I grab on with everything I have. I kissed her and she kissed me back and I don't think it's ever been quite so bad as it was in that moment." Even just the memory of the kiss had Emma's whole arm starting to tremble, the vibrations forcing the Queen to fight to keep her own arm steady as she gripped Emma's wrist. Their eyes connected and the Queen could see tears in Emma's and she knew, deep down in her stupidly emotional heart, exactly what Emma was trying to say, and she felt that damned betrayer of an organ seize and stutter at the implications of it all.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
She let go of Emma's wrist, moving her hand to twine their fingers together, allowing her thumb to draw patterns on Emma's palm until the tremors began to subside. Their eyes were locked and there was so much there, hanging in the air between them. The Queen could feel her heart pounding, her old instincts shouting at her to take what wasn't quite hers but could so easily be. She wanted to grab on to the feelings she saw in Emma's eyes and keep them for herself. She wanted all of that care, all of that need, all of that want and desire and lust and yes, even love, that was shining through the Savior's sea-colored orbs to be hers and hers alone. She wanted, for once, to win. When Emma whispered ,
"Regina" and began to move forward, gaze darting to her lips and tongue coming out to wet her own, it took everything in her, every ounce of goodness that Regina had crammed into her soul, to place her hand tenderly on Emma's chest and push her back.
"I'm not her, Emma. That kiss, it's meant for her."
"But you are her. You are literally half of who she is." Emma was exasperated, desperate for contact and connection, pushing against the Queen's hand still flat against her breast bone.
"I'm not. I don't know how to love yet, Emma. I want to, I have the knowledge of it because of her, because she gave it to me, but I'm not the woman you've grown to care for. I am not the woman you've stood side by side with, and fought with, and fought for. I am the woman who you hated when you first got here. I am every dark instinct your Regina's struggled against as long as you've known her. I am a woman who, had I gotten my hand around your heart when Regina's love was not already a part of me, would have crushed it without a second thought. I have her love inside me now, but it is not my love, not yet."
The raw honesty pouring forth with the Queen had Emma utterly speechless. Never before had Regina, in any of her forms, been so intensely open about her own shortcomings or her emotions, only once coming close in that ratty old apartment in New York the day before she'd made the choice to tear the Queen from her body. She knew the Queen was right, that in the end she and Regina were no longer two halves of a whole but truly two separate, if eerily similar, individuals. A sad smile crossed the Queen's face as she reached up and tucked several stray strands of Emma's hair behind her ear, allowing her hand to cup Emma's cheek gently for a moment before pulling away.
"Thank you for seeing so much of her in me. It makes me believe that maybe, if she could somehow earn a love like yours, I could one day do that too."
Emma's shoulders slouched and she folded in on herself.
"My love is no great shakes, but if it helps you see how amazing you are, I'm glad I could do that. Unfortunately all loving me would do is cause Regina pain. I'm probably going to die in a couple of weeks, I can't let her love me just to leave her like that."
"Oh you idiot. Are you truly as stupid as you're acting right now?" The Queen's words were biting but her fingers under Emma's chin were gentle as she pulled her head up to look her in the eye. "She already loves you, you unimaginable moron, and now you've already hurt her."
"I...what? I'm protecting her!"
"You kissed her, Emma. And if that kiss was anything like the one you gave me, you can bet your charming little brain that she knows how you feel about her. Do you know what a kiss like that does to a heart like mine? It gives it hope, Emma. Hope. And then you just vanished on her."
"...Oh..."
"Indeed." The Queen placed a gentle kiss to Emma's forehead, once again brushing the hair out of the other woman's face and smoothing it down behind her ears.
"She loves me?"
"She does."
"And I've messed it up already, huh?"
"You have. But worry not, if there's one thing I know she and I have 100 percent in common it is this: We love fully, with our whole heart, and once we love something we fight like hell for it. She'll forgive you, if you give her a reason to."
"Really?"
"Yes really."
"I guess I should probably go give her a reason then."
"Mmmhmm."
Emma stared at the Queen for another beat, her face had taken on a look that was somewhere between bashful and contemplative with just a tinge of nervous anxiety in the background. The Queen gave her a gentle shove, straightening her back and plastering on a smile that was far brighter than she felt (because, despite having been completely honest with Emma about who she was, she wanted so badly to be the one Emma loved).
"Go on you fool. Go get your Queen."
Emma blushed and stood, taking the Queen's prompting and shaking out her shoulders and body like a fighter getting ready to enter the ring.
"Ok, I got this." She turned to look back down at the Queen, her own smile less wide but full of hope. "You're sure this is a good idea? I really don't want to break her heart and I can't promise I'm going to win the fight I have coming for me."
"Good idea or not, it's too late to hope that by keeping your distance you can save her the devastation of your death. If that's the way things go her heart will break whether you let yourself love her or not."
"Gee, when you put it that way..." The Queen could see Emma's confidence wavering and so she stood and began physically ushering her towards the stairs that would lead her out of the vault.
"Go, Emma. Just go. Worry about all that later. You have apologies to make now."
"Fine, fine, I'm going!" Emma jumped to the side and up a couple of steps to avoid a jab to the ribs from the Queen's finger. She threw one last look over her shoulder at the Queen, now standing with her hands on her hips looking at Emma like she was a petulant child refusing to go to bed, before climbing the rest of the way up the steps.
She was almost to the door of the vault when she heard the Queen's voice call from below.
"Oh, and Emma?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't break her heart."
"But you just said..."
"I know what I said. So don't let it happen."
