Chapter Ten

The next morning found Emma at Granny's Diner, Ruby's second job, with vague ideas of making a nuisance of herself to Ruby until she had to go to work. A quick scan of the diner, though, and she caught sight of something much more entertaining than flicking sugar packets at her guitarist. She resisted the urge to clap her hands together in glee, and made her way to the back of the dining room.

"Sooooo," Emma drawled, running her hand along Neal's shoulder as she popped around him to sit in the booth across from him. She gave him a big, shit eating grin. "How stupid do you feel today?"

Neal groaned and buried his head in his arms. "Shut up, Emma."

Emma cackled, reaching out to poke the bend of his elbow. "Aww, Neal, did you make bad decisions last night?"

Neal made another disconsolate sound, pulling a fresh round of laughter from Emma's lips. Still chuckling, she caught Ruby's eye and held up Neal's coffee cup, then two fingers. Ruby gave her a quick thumbs up, turning back to the table she'd just been about to take orders from. Then she picked a steak fry off of Neal's unfinished plate and popped it into her mouth, waiting.

"Are you still here?" Neal peeked at her from between his arms.

"Uh, yeah! I like watching you wallow in your own idiocy," Emma told him brightly. "But also, seriously, I did kind of want to check in. What happened last night?"

It wasn't that Killian and Neal weren't known to compete with one another. Actually, that was kind of the defining characteristic of their friendship, as far as Emma could tell. They were always at odds over something, whether it be the spotlight, or Emma's attention (well, any female, really, Emma had to acknowledge it, but they seemed to really get ugly over Emma), or hell, even which of them left their ID at the bar when they opened a tab. What made last night weird wasn't that they'd been competing, it was that they hadn't been able to recover.

"It's your fault!" Neal shot up, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You're the one that started this!"

"Actually, I think it was the Evil Assholes that started it," Emma corrected him glibly. "But you can blame me if you want to. You're not even the first. Thanks, Rubes."

Ruby had come with a new cup for Emma and a refill for Neal. "Emma, Granny says you need to eat because you're too skinny. So, welcome to the family, she's making you an omelet and putting the whole kitchen in it. Nice choke last night, Neal. Really well done."

Neal thumped his head pathetically down against the table. "It was a bad idea. Robin actually told him that when we started to plug in again. I kind of started some shit with Killian before the show, and he was pretty pissed off at me."

"You two are a mess," Emma said bluntly. "Was it serious?"

Neal rolled his eyes. "He'll be over it by tomorrow. But I don't think it was just that we weren't meshing well." At Emma's raised eyebrow, he ducked his head and scrubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. After several moments of not seeming to know how to say it, he finally just blurted out, "They're just really intimidating, okay? The guitarist creeps me the fuck out, and I am pretty sure the drummer thinks I would taste good with ketchup. We chose a bad song and panicked, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

Emma sighed. "Ugh. How do you manage to make me feel bad for you every single time? Okay, I'm going to do you a favor. Meet me tonight at the Rabbit Hole. Don't ask questions, just come. I promise it'll be worth it."

The really impressive thing about Madhouse, Emma thought as she stared in fascination at the stage, was that they were the more stable choice between them and the Jolly Rogers. Emma had never seen them perform, she'd only ever talked to them socially before, and they were all really, super mellow guys. So maybe the twins were a little weird, the way they seemed to talk in shorthand half the time, but none of them had struck her as, well, mad. But watching the twins drum together, the light up points of their sticks flying in wild arcs, was kind of crazy. The rest of the band was nuts, running around with their weird, acid trip props. They had a kind of frenetic energy that made Emma think of Tina, actually, and she wished she'd thought to bring the blonde with them. She'd enjoy this, Emma was sure.

Neal just looked bemused. He tilted his head toward Emma, though he never took his eyes off the band. "These guys are…"

"Yeah," Emma nodded. "I'm getting dizzy watching them."

They watched for the rest of the song, and then simultaneously turned away, leaning against their table. Neal chuckled. "I actually like them when I don't have to watch them move."

Emma snickered. He shoved her shoulder, and her snicker became a full laugh. She pushed him back, and that set him off too.

"So why are we here?" Neal asked when they had both calmed down some. "I thought you said you were going to show me something?"

"I didn't show you something?" Emma jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the band. "Because I think they count as something."

"Don't be a jerk, Emma."

Emma stuck her tongue out. "Don't worry, you'll get it soon."

"This had better be worth it," he told her, mock threateningly. "I got seasick watching them."

"You'll be glad you stayed," Emma promised.

"I'm already glad I came." Neal was looking at her so earnestly that Emma couldn't help but to smile back. She forgot that things could be easy between them, as long as it was just the two of them. Neal and Killian were a competitive mess when they were together, and when she was added to the mix, they became a jealous competitive mess, and sometimes Emma encouraged that, just because she could. But it was at times like these that Emma remembered that Neal was her oldest friend.

"I didn't expect you to stay here this long."

Emma shook herself out of her head and frowned. "Um, I invited you here?"

"No," Neal grinned. "Not here tonight. Here in general. Storybrooke. I didn't expect you'd be here more than a few months."

"Oh." Emma frowned, wishing she had a beer, if only so she had something to do with her hands. In the absence of a label to tear, she picked at her nails instead. "Yeah. I mean, I guess I kind of like it here. I didn't mean to!" She said that almost defensively, but Neal just raised an eyebrow at her. "Anyway, isn't this kind of what I'm supposed to be doing? Like, settling down or some shit like that?"

"I think the general expectation is that you settle down and have a real life, not a rock band. Like Mary Margaret is doing."

"Yeah, well…" Emma shrugged. It was a nice thought, and Mary Margaret's life did seem pretty great, but Emma was fairly certain she'd never have anything like it. Uncomfortable suddenly, she darted her eyes around the room, looking for something to distract them. It would have been an excellent time for the Evil Regals to show up and cut the power, but of course she wasn't that lucky. So in the absence of a convenient reason to stop talking entirely, Emma just changed the subject completely. "So. When are you and Killian going to start behaving like adults? Or at least, less obnoxious human beings?"

Neal rapped the table with his knuckles, chuckling a little ruefully. "Probably never. He's a loudmouthed idiot that turns everything into a competition."

"Well then, it works out well for you, I guess, because you're a soft spoken idiot that turns everything into a competition."

"And you've slept with us both, so clearly you have a thing for idiots."

Emma closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again, Neal at least had the decency to look like he knew he had overstepped his bounds. "Sorry, Emma."

"You're lucky I like you," she muttered.

"Yeah, I know." Her old friend reached over and tapped the back of her hand with his index finger. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you came to Storybrooke."

Emma smiled at him, genuinely. As much as he annoyed her, and as often as he didn't seem to realize that utter crap came tumbling out of his mouth whenever he opened it, she'd actually missed him over the years. Sure, he pissed her off, even more so now that she had to deal with him and Killian together, but she was glad he was back in her life. So she was being completely honest when she said, "Yeah, me too."

They were awkward in the heartfelt moment they suddenly found themselves in. This time, Emma did actually catch a break. Behind them, Madhouse went silent, and Neal's eyes got huge. He grabbed her arm. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope," Emma said smugly, popping the 'p' sound. "Thought you might like a chance to observe the enemy in their natural environment. You know, when they aren't pissing on your territory."

"You knew!" Neal accused in amazement. "How the hell did you know?"

"Now that would be telling." Emma couldn't contain her gleeful grin when Neal turned to level a dark glare at her. Emma was about to assure him, when his head whipped back around again as, sans any musical accompaniment, the Queen began her song. Emma groaned as she heard the first lyrics ("I'm as fake as a wedding cake") "We are so getting the country song." She leaned into Neal and clapped him on the shoulder. "Have fun. I've got to do a thing. Meet you back here later on, okay?"

Neal nodded vaguely, waving her off so he could focus on the performance. She pushed her way through the swaying crowd; this was a really interesting arrangement for this song, she noted as she went. It was quiet and slow instead of fast paced and heavy, and between Regina's lyrics, Zelena was whispering lyrics too. ("Lifelike and poseable, hopeless and disposable")

"Cheerful bunch, aren't they?" she said pleasantly to someone she didn't know as she passed by. He barely acknowledged her. She looked around the room, a little uncertainly. She hadn't really thought this out well. Actually, she hadn't really thought it out at all, her entire thought process beginning and ending with the decision that she was going to make Regina Mills talk to her. But frankly, she'd been lucky the last couple of times. Okay, the last time, really, since she hadn't actually sought out the first encounter. All she knew was that Regina had a tendency to isolate herself after a performance. She couldn't even say for certain how long she'd stay afterward; the first time, she'd still been around long after the Evil Regals had finished their one song. The last time, she'd left almost immediately.

"If I were a super bitchy cry for attention, where would I go?" she wondered aloud.

It was then that she remembered: she knew what Regina's car looked like. She'd seen Regina pull out in it just last night. But also, now that she was thinking about it, there was that photo in the album, with them both sitting in the parked car, in the driver's seat with the window down, the kid in Regina's lap, hunched over the steering wheel. He was clearly pretending they were racing. Emma was sure she could recognize that car. So she quickly made her way outside and around the corner, where the lot was.

Sure enough, she recognized Regina's car with no problem. The bar shared its lot with a liquor store, which Emma thought was both devious and hilarious. Looking at it gave her an idea, though. She ran over, chuckling. She made her selection quickly, and took it up to the counter to pay. When the checker looked at her ID, he grinned at her.

"Heeey, I know about you!" he nodded like they were having a conversation. "I read about your band on the Bandit's blog!"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Of course you did." She snatched the paper bag from his hands. "Thanks, bye!"

"Your guitarist is mega hot!" he called after her as she quickly left the store, muttering under her breath the whole time. "Stupid fucking Astrid Nova and her stupid fucking blog." She found Regina's car again and leaned against it, her mood quickly taking a turn for the worse, as it usually could be counted on to do whenever she got to thinking too hard about Astrid Nova and her blog. Lately hadn't been so bad, since everyone was so focused on the Takeovers and the covers list. Emma had been glad of the reprieve; she'd been getting seriously sick of the way Astrid never seemed to give the Lost Girls a break. "Just because we haven't been around as long as everyone else."

"What the hell are you doing?"

Emma turned her head. For a moment, she just gaped, because Regina Mills was an intimidating, amazing sight when she was angry.

"Get off of my car!" the other singer yelled, stalking forward. She grabbed the bottle out of Emma's hand and curled her fingers into Emma's tank top to yank her away from the hood of the car. She didn't let go as she snarled, "I'm beginning to believe you are actually stalking me! What the hell are you doing?"

Leaning away from the woman—as much as she could when she wouldn't let go of her shirt—Emma tried hard to act like she didn't think that Regina would set her on fire if only there were a lighter around. She tipped her chin at the bottle Regina still held. "So, that would be a no to the drink again? Can I have it back, then?"

"Of course I'm not going to drink it! Who knows what you put in it?"

Emma grabbed Regina's wrist, offended. "Hey! I don't need to drug chicks into hanging out with me! You're really rude!"

"And you're really annoying, Miss Swan," Regina growled in return, pulling the bottle out of Emma's reach when she made a swipe for it. The paper bag slipped a little, and she just let it fall. "What disgusting alcohol—"

"You better pick that up," Emma muttered, toeing the bag. Regina didn't answer; she was staring at the bottle, her fingers slowly uncurling from Emma's shirt. "Hey, are you okay?"

Regina lowered the bottle, stepping away. "You stalked my car to bring me cider?"

"Um…yes?" The blank look on Regina's face confused Emma. It wasn't that big of a deal. Okay, so maybe she'd gotten this particular brand because in a few of the 4th of July pictures, there were a couple of bottles of this brand sitting at Regina and Zelena's knees. And, okay, so maybe that was a little bit stalkery, but how was Regina to know that this just wasn't her favorite brand?

Regina sighed. "You better not have roofied this," she warned, before putting it to her lips and taking a pull.

Emma felt her mouth drop open in shock. "Wait. You're actually going to sit here with me?"

"Apparently so." The woman's voice held no inflection. Her face was still completely impassive. She didn't look excited in any way, but she leaned against her car anyway, indicating Emma should take her spot back. "You'll just keep following me around if I don't."

"I'll probably keep following you around anyway, you know. Now that I know I can annoy you into hanging out with me."

"Are you six?"

Emma took the bottle and took a sip, pretending to think about it. Finally she shook her head. "Nah. Probably more like…eight? Ten at the most."

"You're very strange." Regina shook her head. "Why are you doing this?" Emma stared at her. Then, uncomfortably, "What?"

"You're joking, right?"

The brunette finally looked at her. "No. I'm quite serious. I don't understand why you've been seeking me out this way."

"Oh my god." Emma laughed a little. "I don't understand you, like, at all. Do you realize that in the year that I've been in this town, about 80% of the rumor mill is about you and your stupid band? Seriously, I've heard more stories about how you guys were abducted by aliens than you want to know." Off Regina's incredulous look, she just shrugged. "I know, right? You guys show back up out of nowhere, with the most genius, asshole scheme ever to get people to pay attention to you, and now you're surprised someone wants to talk to you. I can't believe you're actually confused about that."

Regina's nose had scrunched a little when Emma called her an asshole, but she didn't make any protest. What she said was, "I understand perfectly why you'd be interested in talking to us. But you, Miss Swan, are going to lengths so that my band is not involved in our meetings. You don't want to talk to us, you want to talk to me. That, my dear, is what I do not understand."

Emma froze. She couldn't very well tell the woman about the book she'd found, or how the pictures inside were the driving force behind wanting to get to know her. She could maybe admit that it was pretty fun riling the other woman up, but that sounded truly juvenile and she thought it might actually cause her to lose the little bit of ground she'd gained already tonight. So she just shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm impulsive like that. Whatever. I mean, I kind of thought you would, you know, take advantage of the fact that everyone creams their pants over you guys, but no one sees you except when you show up to perform. It's just interesting, I guess." She shrugged. "At least when no one knew what happened to you, people saw the others out and, like, shopping and stuff. But it's almost like you don't exist outside of your band."

Regina snatched the bottle back and took a very long drink. When she was done, she fixed her eyes ahead of her and said, too casually for Emma to think she was actually okay, "Maybe I don't exist outside of my band."

A hundred reasons Emma knew that wasn't true were on the tip of her tongue, and they all involved a brown eyed little boy with a bright smile. She shook her head. "Now that's not true at all."

A shaky inhalation of breath next to her was the only indication that the other singer had heard her. She looked like she was formulating a reply, so Emma waited patiently for it.

"Well, well. I had wondered where you wandered off to, sister dear."

Emma and Regina both turned their heads. Oh good, Emma got to talk to two Evil Regals tonight. Regina's sister had her hands planted on her hips, her mouth twisted up in annoyance as she eyed Emma with suspicion.

"Why is your sister British?" Emma murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

Regina chuckled. "She's not British, dear, she's pretentious. Hello, Zelena. Did you need something?"

Zelena zeroed in on the bottle in Regina's hand. She marched up and snatched it, looking at the label with distaste before thrusting it back into Emma's hands. Liquid sloshed out of it and trickled down Emma's wrist. The redhead took hold of Regina's arm and pulled her away from the hood of the car.

"We've been quite worried that we couldn't find you, Regina," she said, without looking away from Emma. "Mal is having some issues I think you're the only one she'll speak with about. Perhaps you should find her?"

Regina rolled her eyes at the obvious attempt to get her to leave. "Don't be jealous, Zelena. We were just talking." She twisted her wrist out of the tight hold. "Go easy on the girl, she was only being polite. Well, sort of. Thank you for the drink, dear."

Emma and Zelena both watched her go, heading back into the bar without a backward glance. As soon as she was gone, Emma wasn't surprised when her sister got up in her face with a snarl.

"Whatever you think you're doing with my sister, it ends after tonight." The redhead looked at her with utter disdain and flicked the glass bottle in her hand with a green tipped fingernail. "She has no need of friends like you."

"Wow, bitchy runs in the family," Emma muttered, rolling her eyes. "We were talking, that's all. She's a grown lady, I think she can handle a conversation or two."

"Nevertheless," Zelena sneered. "Perhaps you might find it a more pleasant experience if you simply left her alone from now on."

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. "This has got to be a fucking joke! I am not seriously being warned off a girl like I'm some sixteen year old perv!" Zelena opened her mouth but Emma cut her off, waving her arms around wildly. "No, nope, I'm so done with you. Don't talk. This is completely ridiculous. You're nuts, lady!"

She turned and stormed away, her ire overtaking her surprise when she saw that Neal had found her. He was gaping at her from the corner of the parking lot. As she stalked by, she looped her arm around his elbow, towing him along beside her.

"You got an opinion?" she demanded of him. "You gonna tell me who I shouldn't be talking to?"

Wordlessly, Neal only shook his head. Emma nodded sharply. "Good."

Sometimes, Neal wasn't an idiot after all.