Nothing Comes from Nothing

by parakitty

AU, Post Cricket Game, Emma casts a not-so-innocent locator spell, provided by Rumpelstiltskin, to find Regina, and the unexpected consequences bring Emma and Regina closer while revealing painful secrets that not only change their lives, but everyone else's, too.

10. Part 10

Nothing Comes from Nothing
A Swan Queen Story

Author: parakitty
Co-Author / Beta: Lain Stardust

General Disclaimer(s): Refer to Part 1.

Author's Note: We're on a roll! My co-author is making some corrections to previous parts. Please note the edits will not change the story or plot in any way, as it's her perfectionist showing. We appreciate your constructive critiques and speculative theories; they are always welcome. We've been careful and decisive with our development of our mythos for magic, and if you've enjoyed the progress, thus far, you may continue to enjoy our reveals regarding the Blue Fairy's backstory, the Dark One's origin, why the dwarves hatch from eggs, etc. On another note, we don't include every conversation or event. We like to leave some of the more common rationales to be inferred by the reader. Isn't part of the fun drawing conclusions from observations?

Also, since we've had a few comments about the possible white-washing of Regina, we feel that we need to address that now. We fully intend to embrace Regina's Latina heritage (or the Fairytale Land equivalent) in a positive and meaningful way, which will become very apparent as the story progresses. However, while most people assume that her Latin roots are only from Prince Henry, we feel that they come from Cora, as well. Her family's mill was in King Xavier's kingdom, a Latin kingdom. Since we doubt they had the money to buy into the mill but were, rather, native to the area for several generations, we believe that Cora has a heavy Latin ethnic heritage. It is important to remember that while a person's observable physical traits are their phenotype, a person's genotype (which is passed on to their offspring) is much, much more involved, allowing for diverse characteristics to be seen in their children or even skip a generation or more. There is an excellent example of this in the case of Sandra Laing of South Africa. You can read more about her at: theguardian/2003/mar/17/features11.g2. But the bottom line is that we see Regina as Latina and will be celebrating that in the chapters to come.

Thank you for all of the comments, reviews, likes, favorites, follows and kudos. We're excited to hear your insights, critiques, speculations, and questions. It helps us gauge whether or not we're telling our story the way we're meaning for it to be told.

~SQ~

PART 10

"I have not missed work," grumbled Emma Swan, forcefully tapping the end of her pen against a stack of reports, all of which she needed to read and sign by the end of her shift. She scanned the top document and frowned. Of their own accord, her eyes drifted up and looked past Puma and Lucas, who sat in the visitor chairs. She pursed her lips as she watched Regina typing away on her laptop at a desk in the bullpen.

Snickering softly, Ruby teased her friend in a quiet sing-song tone, signing her timesheet with a flourish, "Someone has gotten spoiled." She took a quick peek at the wall clock and settled back in her chair, enjoying her slow day. Maybe she could get her blonde friend alone, and maybe she could get a bit more info about the blonde's new car.

"Things will get back to normal, now," Puma stated firmly, not looking up from his clipboard as he continued writing. His job hadn't been hard, so far, but being on call twenty-four-seven was rough. Damn, he couldn't wait till the next day, his first day off in a week.

"Really, have you seen our normal?" the sheriff asked with a sigh. Leaning back in her creaky office chair, she tossed her pen on the desk and happily added, "At least we can hire another deputy." She smiled at the looming but neat stack of reports on her desk. The additional deputy had been a huge win and would definitely make life easier for the entire Sheriff's Department.

"So, another round of applications?" piped the waitress, silently considering tossing her hat in the ring. Granny had more than enough help with all the high schoolers looking for part-time jobs. And her grandmother had been fair, splitting the hiring between the kids who really needed the extra cash for their families and those just looking for some pocket change.

"No," the blonde groaned, remembering the last run of applicants. She sure as hell didn't want to interview all seven dwarves, again. Bashful had been a freaking nightmare. Shuddering at the memory, she nodded to herself before saying, "I'm going to offer it to Jackson Hart."

Damn, Lucas thought, slouching in her seat. She had been getting used to the idea of full benefits.

"Good choice, he's very level headed," the deputy approved, signing his timesheet. He carefully removed the document from his clipboard and placed it on top of his boss's growing pile, flashing a broad smile before sitting back. Absently, he tucked his pen in his shirt's breast pocket. "When it counts," he quickly added.

Ruby, on the other hand, wasn't as professional. She sputtered and snickered into her hand, and when she was no longer able to keep her amusement to herself, she gushed, "Unless you call him Bambi." She giggled some more, and once she managed to compose herself, she quickly warned, "Better tell Regina not to say dear around him."

Entering the sheriff's office with a thick file folder, Regina inquisitively asked, "Who shouldn't I say dear to?" Of course, she was already aware Emma was going to offer the new deputy position to Jackson Hart. Her eyes dropped down to the untouched stack on the desk, and she sighed to herself, offering the folder in her hand to the sheriff.

Clearing her throat, the blonde casually took the folder with a sly smile as she answered, "Bambi, apparently."

A deep, baritone chuckle filled the small office as Puma stood and graciously offered his seat to the former mayor. His dark eyes sparked with mischief as he straightened his uniform. "She warned you," he clarified, moving toward the office door. Then, his sharp eyes fixed on the sulky man in one of the jail cells. In a low and rumbly voice, he flatly inquired, "So, what's the news on the Tillman front?" Just looking at the man infuriated him.

Emma drummed her fingers on the office chair's arms and sighed. That had also been on her plate this morning. Damn, it had been a long day, and it wasn't even lunchtime, yet. "The new ADA, Agwé Dejean, will be by later to discuss options," she answered, taking on a strictly business tone. "For now, Kathryn and Jim have volunteered to look after Ava and Nicholas," she added, knowing the question was coming. Shrugging, she lightly concluded, "The kids seem okay with it." Even if it wasn't ideal, it was the best the town could do, at the moment.

Crossing her arms, Ruby awkwardly prompted, "Where are we going to put Tillman?" She twisted and looked through the office window to glare at the worthless man. "We can't leave him in here," she scoffed. It was bad enough she had to bring him two meals a day from Granny's.

"That's definitely a problem," the sheriff shook her head, sitting upright and propping her elbows on the desktop. Suddenly, she felt tired and slouched. "Storybrooke doesn't have a proper holding facility or trained personnel, and the psych ward in the hospital is only a temporary measure." That had been a huge fight between David and she, in the beginning. No, the Sheriff's Department couldn't ask, let alone expect, nurses and doctors to look after perfectly sane and uninjured criminals. And to top it off, Sydney Glass had escaped from the ward unaided and was currently hiding out amongst the Crows Guard.

"Request one," Regina simply supplied. She knew if they could convince the city council, Mitchell Herman would call for a bond vote, and then, with a sizable down payment, Storybrooke First Bank would simply approve the city's loan.

"Yeah," the blonde scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Fun times with paperwork and convincing Mayor Herman and the city council, but what do we do when the other cell is full and there's somebody else to lock up?" She pointedly looked at the former mayor.

"Magic one up," Ruby helpfully suggested. She twisted in her seat and started pointing across the room. "Take out the janitor closet, move those filing cabinets, and maybe make the cells a little smaller, all done!" She turned a beaming smile on the other brunette. When she manned the station and the hours seemed to drag on forever, she entertained herself with ideas of remodeling.

Clearly not impressed with the suggestion, the former mayor merely cocked an eyebrow at the part-time deputy and quipped, "Why don't I just build a prison while I'm at it?" Did no one understand how time-consuming and energy-sucking such an endeavor would be?

"That would save us a few headaches," Puma replied easily. He nodded to himself, once again seeing the merits of a magic user working for the Sheriff's Department.

Glaring at the man, Regina countered with a flat, hard, "No." Although, she was impressed with the panther's quick thinking.

Emma smirked, and in a mocking tone, she relayed, "It's about economics." She knew if the brunette wasn't going to use magic to fix her own house, there was no way in hell she'd renovate the Sheriff's Department.

However, Ruby seriously considered her boss's sassy retort. She pursed her lips and turned back around in her chair. "More jobs, less time to drink, I support it," she said to the room. Cash flow was becoming a real issue for some families. Looking at the blonde, she pointed adamantly at the discarded pen on the desktop. "You better start filling out those request forms and brushing up on your PowerPoint skills," she warned, grinning. "And practice your public speaking."

"Damnit," the sheriff cursed, slumping in her chair. She pouted at Regina before turning to Puma. "Any leads on Albert Spencer?" With all the chaos, lately, Team Sheriff could really use a break.

"A few but nothing concrete, yet," the deputy relayed, straightening his shoulders. He sighed softly, letting his frustration show. "Surprisingly, he's remained off the radar, not that it's been difficult, lately," he added. His eyes dropped to the stack of reports on the desk, signaling that Cora and Hook hadn't been the only goings-on in Storybrooke.

"Did he fall down a well? Storybrooke's only so big!" the blonde exclaimed, covering her face with her hands. That was another thing Herman had harped about during their phone call that morning. Apparently, those phone calls were going to become a weekly thing.

A sly, saucy smirk graced Regina's lips as she courteously inquired in a soft voice, "Should I find Lassie?" Cutting an impish gaze at the part-time deputy, she answered herself in mock disappointment, "Oh, never mind."

"Ha ha," the waitress delivered flatly, leveling a hot glare at the former mayor, but her faux non-amusement was short lived. A bubbly chortle escaped her throat at Emma's giggle and her mask shattered at Puma's snort. So, as she shook her head, she offered with a limp wave of a hand, "I tried sniffing Spencer out, but the trail went cold."

"Poor Timmy," the brunette remarked with a hint of wistfulness. The reports had been extremely dull; so, she had to find her entertainment somewhere.

Blinking and somehow managing to keep a straight face, the deputy turned to leave the office. "On that note, I'm going on patrol," he stated, walking to his desk and retrieving his coat off the back of his office chair. He quickly made his way down the hall toward the exit.

"Coward!" Emma called after the retreating man. "You could help me with these forms." A half smirk settled across her face.

"I don't get paid the big bucks," Puma called back and waved before exiting the double doors at the end of the hall.

Dropping her smirk, Ruby took on a serious tone. "Yeah, don't say buck around Hart, either."

How sensitive was this guy? "Should we, like, not talk to him at all because you do realize you're giving this one all the ammunition," the blonde pondered, pointing at the former mayor.

"I do find venison rather . . . tasty," Regina interjected. This was turning out to be a good day. Certainly, cracking the dashing panther's stoic exterior had been quite diverting. The waitress was too easy.

Outright laughing, Emma covered her eyes with her left hand, and whimpered, "Oh, my God, please stop." The puns weren't even that funny, but the former mayor's dry delivery made them so.

Lucas had given up on any pretense of composure and allowed herself to simply laugh. "Yeah, no, don't say that," she instructed, shaking her head and still chuckling. Straightening abruptly, she asked, "Wait, was that a sex joke or a crack about cannibalism?"

Smirking, Regina's widened her eyes in mischievous delight and teased sweetly, "Is the big bad wolf concerned about competition?" Her tongue briefly wet her lips as she winked, husking with wicked glee, "I don't bite, much."

The sheriff snorted and deadpanned, "Do I have to worry about you two mauling the new guy?" There was a slight pause before she snickered and shamelessly added, "Guess we should hide the buckshot." Then, one of the double doors opening down the hall drew her attention, and she bit her lip when Paige Moser started toward them. Taking a deep breath, she pushed all the fun aside, stood up, and moved to meet the girl just outside her office. "Paige," she greeted.

"Sheriff Swan," the girl replied. Her gaze nervously glanced around the small station, finally landing on the former mayor. "May I speak with Ms. Mills, please?" Despite the conviction in her voice, the girl's hands trembled.

Turning, Emma noticed Regina was already stepping out of the office and guiding the teenager toward the interview room. She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans as the door softly clicked closed and chewed on her lower lip. Sighing, she was relieved she didn't have to deal with that particular mess and that Jefferson had already been moved to the hospital's psych ward. She pivoted on her booted heel, and her gaze briefly caught Michael Tillman's, who quickly looked away. Frowning, she went back to her office chair.

"So, is Henry grounded for life?" Ruby drawled, needing to distract herself from the private conversation in the next room. Since Paige had attempted to push her biological father over the town line, there had been all kinds of speculation and rumors over the girl's biological mother's death. She frowned and darkly wondered, "Am I grounded for life?"

Distractedly, the blonde quietly answered, "Yes, to Henry. No, to you." She paused and looked up with a sad smile. "But you might want to comp Regina's salads for a while." It wasn't as if the former mayor blamed the waitress, far from it, actually, but it would help solidify their blossoming friendship. Not a lot of people, aside from the Crows Guard, showed Regina they cared.

"That I can do, but seriously, I thought you guys nipped his Houdini act in the bud," Lucas mused, her brow furrowed in confusion. Surprisingly, Mary Margaret had been rather closed-lipped on the whole affair; usually, her friend couldn't wait to share.

With a heavy exhale, Emma pretended to organize the already sorted papers on her desk. "So did I," she huffed in annoyance, picking up her pen. "And apparently, having a new parent means you don't have to pay any attention to any other parent," she added through gritted teeth, angrily tapping the pen against the file folder.

"That kind of backfired on you, huh?" Ruby questioned, understanding that both mothers were at their wits' end with the boy's behavior.

"Big time. I'm really getting a taste of my own medicine," the sheriff grumbled, tossing the pen back on her desk. She leaned back in her office chair and ran her hands down her face. "It sucks," she started but stopped, abruptly dropping her hands. Looking her friend in the eye, she gently explained, "I swear Regina's a saint for not killing me that first year." Oh, she had a lot to talk to Archie about during their next session.

Chuckling, the waitress arched an eyebrow, knowing she needed to tread carefully. So, in the vein of keeping things light, she idly bantered, "Well, she must've gotten over it because, hello, new car." She flashed a broad smile and waggled her eyebrows. However, her curiosity peaked when she noted the blonde's slight blush. Wow, this is a minefield! Pushing those thoughts aside, as well, she decided to focus on something safe, something concrete, the new car. "Seriously, though, how did that happen?"

"The bug died," Emma slowly replied. She cleared her throat and quickly expounded, "I cried, and next thing I know, we're in a car lot." Shrugging, she felt slight embarrassment at proclaiming Regina her sugar mama in front of Granny's, of all places. Her gaze hesitantly met her friend's, and she steeled herself for some teasing.

However, Ruby merely stated, "You must have powerful tears." She wasn't really surprised by the former mayor buying the sheriff a new car. Since she'd gotten to know the reclusive Regina Mills, not the professed Evil Queen persona, that behavior made sense, as the woman was very giving.

"Eh," the sheriff grunted and shrugged, attempting to brush off the entire situation. She mindlessly straightened her pencil cup and tape dispenser. "It may have something to do with me moaning over the all leather interior," she weakly suggested with a wry smile, hoping Ruby would just drop it. She wasn't ready to share the intimate details of the New York trip, yet.

"Uh huh," the waitress drawled, observing the blonde's fidgeting. She could smell the apprehension rolling off of her friend. It both confused and intrigued her, but she decided to let it go, for now. "So, when do I get a ride?" she easily prompted, noting the utter relief in green eyes.

With a wide grin, Emma quickly replied, perking up at the idea, "Anytime, but you'll have to fight for shotgun."

~SQ~

Regina closed the door to the interview room and gestured to one of the chairs at the table, waiting for the girl to settle before taking the seat beside her. "What can I do for you, Dear?" she asked, turning her body toward her, pretty sure she knew why the girl had come to see her.

Paige fidgeted in her seat, staring at her hands in her lap as she said, "Ms. Mills, I…. You said you knew my mother." Her gaze briefly flicked up to meet the former mayor's. Hesitantly, she asked, "Do you know how she died?"

The brunette clasped her hands together and rested them on the table, straightening fractionally in her chair. "I do," she allowed softly, unwilling to divulge any additional information until asked. The child deserved to know the truth, but she had to want it badly enough to ask the right questions.

Face scrunching slightly at the short answer, Paige followed up with a quiet, "How did she die?"

Instead of answering, Regina questioned, "Do your parents know you're here?" At the quick nod, she clarified, "Do they know why you're here? What you planned to ask me?" It was a courtesy she'd want if Henry had gone to someone for answers about her own past. And while no one might afford it to her, she could damn well be kind to the couple who had cared for the girl these last few years.

"Yes. I told them I wanted to know, that I was old enough. They said that they didn't really have any details, and I would have to ask . . . my father." Scowling, she shifted back in her chair, her arms crossing over her chest in petulance. "He refused to tell me anything." Her lips turned out in a slight pout as she added, "When I told my parents, they said that you would be the only other person to ask."

Pursing her lips faintly, the former mayor stated flatly, "I see. Did they say anything else?" She wondered if the Mosers had explained just how much of a benefactress she'd been to the cobbled together family since Jefferson had been lost to Wonderland.

The girl shrugged noncommittally. "Mama said that you knew my mother and father when you were the queen." She hesitated a moment, chewing on her bottom lip in indecision before finally inquiring, "How did you know them?"

In spite of wanting to maintain a cool façade, Regina's lips curled up a little at the girl's earnestness. "When I became queen, your father was a milliner of the highest esteem, his designs greatly sought after by much of the nobility. You were just a few months old when I first met your parents at court." She catalogued the girl's features, seeing much of Ida in the young face. The dark, almond-shaped eyes, especially, reminded her of the carefree woman she had met decades ago.

"They went to court?" Paige squeaked in surprise, never before having heard the information. She edged forward in the chair, leaning forward, eyes wide in wonder.

Laughing lightly as she warmed up to the girl, the brunette affirmed, "Yes, indeed. Your parents were well thought of, at the time. They were very elegant and dashing, wearing the newest fashions and setting trends that swept through the aristocracy like wildfire. Your mother was a lovely woman, kind and always smiling." Regina's own smile slipped a little as she thought of Ida, resplendent in a stylish ball gown and laughing over some insipid joke. Then, she remembered how the woman had looked in death and had to suppress a shudder, smile leaving her completely.

Noticing the change in the woman next to her, the girl pressed, "Please, Ms. Mills, tell me how she died. My parents never met my mother and say that my father wouldn't tell them what happened." She saw the way the brunette looked at her, like she was seeing a ghost, and recognized it as the same look her father would sometimes send her way. It confused and annoyed her that no one seemed to take her seriously. "I don't understand how someone's death could be such a secret. Why can't anyone tell me anything? I deserve to know," she pleaded. Her gaze was steady as she looked at the former mayor, her frustrated expression demanding answers.

Regina took a deep breath, centering herself and deliberating just how much to divulge to the young girl. Her age and maturity level were important and would determine the degree to which she would need to edit the story. "How old are you, Paige—thirteen?"

"Yes, Ma'am," came the instant response, an eagerness seeping into her tone as she realized that her long sought-after answers were finally in reach.

The brunette nodded once, coming to a decision. "Very well, I'll tell you." Holding up her index finger in warning, she stressed, "Understand that it is a hard, ghastly truth, and you may wish you had never asked this of me." The coming conversation should never have originated from her. Had Jefferson not been such a colossal coward, she would not have been left with the onerous task of breaking a young girl's assumptions about the world. She hated this and despised the milliner even more for leaving it to her.

The girl frowned at her lap before looking up in determination. "I need to know. Tell me, please."

The former mayor angled herself in the chair to better face the girl, meeting her eyes to gauge her reaction as she spoke. Her voice was soft and low, tone even and warm in an attempt to cushion her words. "You were perhaps three when your mother was kidnapped by, what many believe to be, a particularly rough group of bandits. She was missing for six days, and no ransom was ever demanded." Seeing thick lips pressed into a tight line as the girl listened intently, she continued gently, "I'm sorry, Paige, but her body was discovered in cesspit on the seventh day."

Paige gasped quietly at the last admission, letting the information sink in for a minute. At last, she queried tremulously. "What did they do to her?"

Regina sighed through her nose, swallowing back the rising bile as she recalled the woman she had once considered a friend. "You mother had been beaten savagely and . . . cruelly used by the men who took her." Her eyes slipped closed briefly, face tightening in pain at the memory of a bloody and bruised visage staring up at her from the surrounding filth, almost unrecognizable through the damage. Looking at Paige, once more, she nearly gasped as, for just a moment, the image of Ida's battered face seemed to be superimposed on that of her daughter's. Her gaze on the girl was watery as she struggled to set aside the horrific memories.

The girl considered what that meant. Her eyes filled with tears, she said, "You mean they raped her." She paused, thinking about the crime dramas she watched on the television and how that knowledge impacted the new revelation of her mother's fate. "Do you . . . do you think she suffered much?" she asked, voice small and sad.

Reaching out with a hand that, she was proud to note, barely shook, Regina cupped Paige's cheek and gave her a sorrowful smile. The brunette let her pain spill over her lashes and shook her head regretfully, murmuring sadly, "Oh, Sweetheart, they had her for six days. I know she did." Seeing the child's face begin to crumple, she placed her free hand on a small shoulder, squeezing with gentle reassurance. "I'm truly very sorry for what happened to your mother," she whispered, her voice cracking the tiniest amount.

That little kindness sent the girl pitching forward into Regina, seeking comfort from the woman who had been honest enough to tell her the truth. As warm arms wrapped around her, Paige cried for the mother she didn't remember and the father she had lost to madness. The former mayor held the teenager for several long minutes, stroking the dark blonde hair and rocking back and forth with her. Surreptitiously swiping at her own tears, she forcefully banished the images that had been recalled during the telling and carefully pulled back a bit. With the practiced ease of a mother, she tenderly wiped away any lingering tears on the girl's face and asked gently, "Would you like us to give you a ride home?"

Sniffling and accepting the offered tissue, Paige nodded and requested, "Yes, please." But instead of getting up, she leaned back into the brunette's warm embrace, resting her cheek on the offered shoulder, again. "Maybe in just a little while," she warbled, relieved when kind arms enveloped her, once more.

"Alright." Regina acquiesced, resuming the slow drag of her fingers through honeyed locks. Evil Queen she may have once been, but the brunette's maternal instincts were strong. So, she simply hummed a soft tune and let the girl cry herself out in her own time, providing her with what comfort she could. After the tears had stopped for a while, she stilled and tenderly prompted, "A little better?"

"Yes, thank you," Paige sniffed, gradually sitting back up. A quick glance up assured her that the former mayor wasn't trying to rush her out the door. The confirmation that the discussion had been difficult for the woman before her was oddly comforting. It was nice to know that someone besides her father felt hurt over her mother's death. It made it feel more real to her, somehow, no longer just some vague blip in her history.

A little shaky, Regina stood, gently drawing the girl to her feet, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders, leading her into the hallway. "Wait here, just a moment," she instructed quietly with one last squeeze of the girl's upper arm. Striding into the bullpen and catching sight of the sheriff, she moved closer, calling out, "Emma? I informed Paige we'd take her home."

Turning her head, Emma noticed the red eyes, the surrounding skin crinkled slightly at the corners from stress and wondered just what, exactly, had happened to the kid's mother in the Enchanted Forest. "Sure," she replied, standing from her chair and grabbing their coats and her keys while Ruby moved to her own desk. She handed Regina her coat, and quietly, while she shrugged into her jacket, she inquired, "What did you tell her?"

Dark eyes filled with a haunted look as she buttoned up her coat, she rasped, "Enough." Her face paled suddenly, and her knees wobbled, hand reaching out automatically to grasp the blonde's nearest arm. Her body wavered slightly before she steadied herself and attempted to regain her composure.

"Hey," Emma cautioned, catching the brunette's elbows in support. "Are you okay?" Worried green eyes searched her friend, roving over the stricken face, trying to figure out what had caused the uncharacteristic stumble.

"No," Regina admitted, shaking her head once. "But I will be, shortly." Giving the sheriff a tight smile, she straightened her spine, squeezing Emma's arm quickly in gratitude before releasing her. "Let's get Paige back to her parents. Then, perhaps a glass of cider would be in order," she murmured confidentially, gaze flicking up to meet the blonde's concerned one.

The weary tone coupled with the unexpected rawness in the former mayor's voice prompted the sheriff to agree immediately. "Sounds good. A fire would be nice, too," she noted, falling into step beside her friend as they walked toward Paige and the station's exit.

"Mm," came the content hum in response. Yet again, Regina was struck by the odd effortlessness with which she and Emma now communicated. It should have set her on edge, but instead, she found that she craved the deeper connection they had forged over the past few months. A faint smile edged up the corners of her mouth as the brunette reflected on how happy their unconventional little family had made her.

~SQ~

Opening the door and triggering the bell overhead, Neal Cassidy stepped inside his father's pawnshop. "Papa?" he called, looking over the completely restored shop. Any sign of yesterday's skirmish was already gone.

"In back, Bae," Gold distractedly replied to his son. He crossed his arms and glared at the useless potion sitting on the worktable before him. All of his attempts, thus far, to make a permanent antidote to the Dreamshade poison had failed.

The night janitor entered the back room. His shoulders slumped slightly upon noticing the chemistry setup on the table with an untouched potion in front of his father. "Looks like you've been busy," he commented softly, uncertain as to his father's mood, pushing long forgotten memories away.

"I was, but I've hit a bit of a snag," the pawnbroker sighed, turning toward his boy. His gaze searched him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt contentment. Now, if only he could restore Belle's memories, his world would be just about perfect.

Still uneasy with magic and all its trappings, Neal could only imagine his dad's current irritation. He remembered from his youth that it didn't take the Dark One long to master something, but the failures were met with raging anger. "You need to be careful, Papa," he said, glancing around the work area and seeing the leather canteen off to the side. It wouldn't take much for the remaining water to be depleted. He didn't know how he felt about that dilemma, yet.

"You don't think I know that?" Gold snapped, his lips curling into a snarl. When his eyes met his son's, he released a heavy exhale and shook his head. He quietly apologized, "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated." This situation had not been part of his plans.

Nodding, the janitor thought it best to let it slide, this time. He pulled out a small stool from under the table and inquired, "Why don't you ask for help?" If the good guys came to his aide, maybe he wouldn't be so isolated, anymore. Maybe it would mean that he wasn't so dark.

A mirthless laugh escaped the pawnbroker's mouth. "Who would help me?" he demanded in a low, foreboding voice. He quickly yanked another stool from under the table and sat. Idly, he toyed with the bottle of worthless potion and silently fumed over the wasted resources. His supplies were dangerously low.

Blinking, Neal sat up a little straighter and thought he might have overestimated the Dark One. A long, uncomfortable silence settled between them. Finally, he suggested, "What about Regina?" His intense gaze studied his father carefully. "She has magic," he needlessly added.

"That would be a good as signing my own death warrant," Gold countered with sadness. Looking out the window, he pursed his lips and chuckled. "A talented apprentice she may have been, but helpful? I think not." He didn't trust her, not after everything, but he knew she had the talent to save him.

Clearly surprised, the janitor tilted his head and leaned forward. "Wait, she was your apprentice? And you never once thought she could've been your kid?" he questioned in a rush. He couldn't believe any of this. His father knew everything.

"No," the pawnbroker drawled, narrowing his eyes at the outburst. Apparently, his son had been awake for Cora's dramatic revelation. Dismissively, he added, "As you like to point out, frequently, I can be wrong." He remembered how his son had fought so hard to keep the newly minted Dark One on the straight-and-narrow in the beginning. A part of him wondered if his son would take up that mantle, again. Would his son want to? Or more importantly, would the Dark One tolerate the insolent behavior?

Not sure how he felt about his dad's answer, Neal slouched and let his eyes follow the lines of the tubes and beakers of the chemistry lab. He quietly inquired, "How much water did you use in trying to make a cure?"

"Barely a dram," Gold replied in a low rumble. Three-quarters of a canteen wasn't going to last him forever. Until he permanently cured himself, he was vulnerable.

The more he thought about it, the more the janitor warmed up to the idea of having a sister. With his son and his fiancé, his life had never been so full of potential love and belonging. "Well, if she was your apprentice, maybe she could help," he restated, pushing his previous suggestion. "Two heads are better than one, right?" he added with a rakish smirk. He pushed aside the thoughts of other potential apprentices, trying not to consider if any ended up either dead or cursed.

Bristling, the pawnbroker was clearly annoyed, but he was also touched by his son's concern. "Bae, she won't help me," he responded in a low, sad voice. A part of him knew he would never have a familial relationship with his daughter, not after the pain he had caused her, had let befall her.

"Because you tricked Emma into casting this bond thing on Regina?" Neal asked sharply. Shaking his head, he didn't wait for a reply and immediately demanded, "Why would you even do something like that?" Huffing, his brow furrowed as he recalled Emma and Regina's couply behavior in New York. Things weren't adding up. "Is the bond like some weird, magical handfasting or something?" he pondered quietly, his eyes searching his dad's face.

"Handfasting?" Gold mumbled after opening and closing his mouth several times. He blinked rapidly, looking pointedly at his son. "What are you talking about?" Nuptials? The Dark One didn't do nuptials.

Rolling his eyes, the janitor tilted his head. A few moments passed before he asked, "Emma and Regina are a couple, aren't they?" It was the only thing that made sense. People forced together typically didn't get along with one another, and as far as he could tell, they got along pretty damn well.

Curiosity won out over ridicule. "What makes you say that?" the pawnbroker questioned tightly.

"It's kind of obvious," Neal scoffed, crossing his arms. He shifted on the stool, letting his legs spread further apart. "I know Emma, and she's suddenly, weirdly domestic. And that's something I never thought I'd see," he easily explained. His Emma had been wild and unpredictable, while this Emma was calm and settled.

"How's that?" Gold asked, moving the useless potion off to the side. He idly organized the various ingredients littering the worktable in an effort to appear unconcerned by the conversation.

"You know, couply stuff, like holding hands, whispered conversations, all the touchy-feely stuff," the janitor answered with a shrug. He watched his father fiddle with the various odds and ends still on the table.

Softly, almost with a sense of wonder, the pawnbroker whispered, "Really. I hadn't expected that quite so soon." When strategizing the various, possible conclusions to his manipulations, he had considered a wide variety of results, but the pair falling in love had been extremely low on his predicted outcomes. It was not an undesirable one, just unprecedented considering everything he knew about the two women.

Neal narrowed his eyes, putting the puzzle pieces together. "So, they're not a couple," he stated in bleak disbelief. His head dropped into his hands as he reined in his irritation. Looking at his father, he cried, "Papa, what did you do?"

"What I had to do," Gold snapped, glaring at his son. The boy always had had problems seeing the bigger picture.

"Alright," Neal acquiesced not really buying the flimsy excuse. "Explain it to me," he prompted, standing up from the stool. He paced across the room twice before asking, "Did you feel threatened by Emma, what with her being the savior and all?"

"Hardly," the pawnbroker scoffed, turning on his stool to track his son. "Ture Love is quite powerful, but nothing I can't handle," he said with a dismissive gesture before crossing his arms.

"So, it's Regina, then," the janitor quickly surmised, stopping his pacing. His father was afraid of his own daughter. That, of course, begged a lot of other questions.

"Don't be foolish. She's hardly anything to worry about," Gold answered weakly. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't want his son interacting with Regina any more than necessary. However, there was the issue of Henry being Neal's son and all the other unforeseen consequences of that entanglement.

"Uh huh," Neal jeered, as he wasn't buying what his father was selling. "What is it about her that threatens you so much?" he probed softly. He wanted his father to open up to him, trust him. It would be the only way they could even begin to salvage their relationship.

A sneer curled the pawnbroker's lips. "She doesn't threaten me," he gritted out, anger flashing in his eyes.

Not backing down, the janitor shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. "I know you. You only react like this when you're scared," he taunted, hoping to push his father into answering his questions because he wasn't as calculating when mad.

Standing up, Gold rose to the challenge, leaning on the worktable. "I'm not scared of my own daughter," he seethed. His breaths were heavy as he held his son's eyes. In an instant, something in him shifted; he couldn't be upset with his boy. He dropped back down onto his stool.

"Then, why haven't you told her?" Neal said in a rush, wanting to understand. Shaking his head and dropping his hands to his sides, he continued in a level voice, "You created this curse to find me, and you expect me to believe that family is suddenly not important to you?"

Releasing a heavy sigh, the pawnbroker covered his eyes with a hand for a long moment before dragging the hand down his face. "It's not that simple, Bae," he intoned with great sadness.

"Like hell it isn't," the janitor snapped, turning in a tight circle. There wasn't much room to pace in the shop. "You can't have a relationship with one child and not the other," he elaborated on his wounded feelings. "It's not fair to me or her." They had had so little family at home. After his mother had left, followed shortly by his two great aunts' deaths, it was just the two of them in that tiny, poor village.

Somewhat offended and highly confused by his boy's admission, Gold looked at his son with wonderment and trepidation. "You only found out yesterday, and you want bring her into the fold?" he scoffed not moved in the slightest by the emotional appeal. "She's a wild animal, Bae. You'd do well to keep your distance," he ordered darkly.

Snorting, Neal adopted a disappointed expression. "Yeah, well, that's not likely to happen since she adopted my son, is it?" he prompted, sounding disgusted. As the silence dragged on, he shook his head and walked to the window. He crossed his arms, watching his father's reflection. "Did you plan that, too? Was that part of your sick scheme?" he questioned in a subdued voice.

"I knew Henry was the savior's child, but I didn't know you were the father. I couldn't have known. There's no possible way I could've known Neal Cassidy was you," the pawnbroker pleaded at his son's back. He reached toward the other end of the worktable, grabbing his cane.

Dropping his head, the janitor slid his hands into his hair, taking several deep breaths. He sighed before turning to quietly say, "That doesn't make it better." His brow furrowed as he was still unsatisfied with the answers. "Why, then? Why bind Emma and Regina?" he firmly demanded with a determined gaze.

"You know why. You heard it yourself," Gold countered, standing and taking a step toward the window. "She absorbed a death curse," he whispered, looking out. "It shouldn't be possible," he added, feeling the intensity of his son's eyes.

Frowning, the janitor simply refuted, "Anything is possible with magic. So, try again." The gods knew he'd seen enough strangeness to last him multiple lifetimes.

"She shouldn't have been able to do it," the pawnbroker reluctantly shared. It was too much like admitting a flaw or weakness, leaving him feeling exposed.

"So, it's about power," Neal sneered, rolling his eyes. He blew out a frustrated breath and pursed his lips, mumbling, "We're back to this, again." Glaring at his father, he walked across the room as he jeered, "The Dark One can't be outdone."

Shaking his head, Gold turned, leaning heavily on his cane as he clarified, "You don't understand, Bae. She's unnatural." He gestured toward the cot with his free hand. "You heard Cora," he hastily reminded him. "Regina's magic had been inhibited since before birth, and it still leaked through!" Such cases were virtually unheard of, even in the ancient days amidst the followers of the old religion.

With furrowed brows, the janitor pondered, "So, the binding on her magic broke—"

"Thanks to the moronic Blue Fairy, yes," the pawnbroker interrupted. He tapped his cane forcibly on the wood floor. That had been a mistake on the blue gnat's part, as she obviously didn't know Cora had bound her daughter.

"This is totally not making any sense," Neal huffed in agitation. Was his father being purposefully obtuse and difficult? "What does the Blue Fairy have to do with Regina's magic?" he asked, tossing his hands up in the air.

Despite the situation and topic, Gold smirked at his boy's animated nature. It propelled him to easily provide an explanation, "Emma's loving parents decided to magically castrate Regina in an attempt to break the bond." Pausing, he tittered darkly before continuing, "As if anything could break a spell which utilized a phoenix feather." He scowled at the Blue Fairy's sheer incompetence. How such an inept creature had lived so long was beyond him. "It's amazing they didn't lobotomize her in the process." But it should have, and that amount of fairy dust should have left the brunette writhing in withdrawal pains for hours, as addictive as it was.

"A phoenix feather?"

It was easy to forget how much of a magical novice his son was sometimes, but the pawnbroker effortlessly offered, "A phoenix is the embodiment of renewal. As such, whenever someone messes with the bond, it will only become stronger." He shrugged with casual nonchalance and displayed a wicked smile. "I had to ensure it would stick."

Shaking his head, Neal knew his father obviously missed the point of his question. So, he took a deep breath and repeated, "Again, why would you do that to someone?"

Gold bristled as he tapped his thumb against his cane's handle. Rolling his lips, he grudgingly admitted, "Because I have no idea what the limits are to Regina's true magical potential."

"And that scares you," the janitor needlessly clarified. He had been right.

"Yes," the pawnbroker hissed, "and if that doesn't scare you, it should." His daughter had cast one of the most powerful curses of their land with her magic tempered. Shaking his head, he dropped his eyes to the floor as he whispered, "Bae, her power could surpass mine."

"Is that why Storybrooke's magic went haywire when we crossed into town?" Neal questioned in a gentle tone, trying to make sense of yesterday's events. He needed to know as much as possible about his sister. He needed to decide if he should grab Henry and run as far away from Storybrooke as possible.

Looking up, Gold's eyes aimlessly shifted about the room, deep in thought. "That was her?" he pondered aloud, carefully moving back to his stool. Quietly, he rambled, "I hadn't anticipated her power would grow so quickly." That was a rather distressing disclosure, and one for which he was not adequately prepared. He sat back down, keeping a firm grip on his cane. "I joined them because I had hoped Emma Swan would learn to control Regina," he plainly stated. In the scheme of things, it was a kinder fate than others he'd considered. He rested his chin on top of the cane's handle.

"Control?" came the incredulous response.

"The binding spell is from an old world where magic was exalted and feared. It's meant to establish dominance over a natural caster, keeping them compliant and docile," he enlightened. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to consider how his plans would have differed had he known Regina was his child.

"A slave," Neal clarified, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"In a way, yes," the pawnbroker answered, focusing once again on his boy.

"That's cruel, even for you, Papa," the janitor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He realized his father was different but still very much the same man he'd known as a boy.

Not one to accept full responsibility, Gold frowned at being blamed. "Regina isn't innocent in the scheme of things. Some would say she had this coming," he said as a means of defending his choices. His daughter had bloomed into a beautiful monster, just like her parents.

Laughing breathlessly, Neal realized he'd made the right choice all those years ago, and by his father abandoning him, he'd actually saved him. "No one should be a slave," he countered in a low, deep voice. Over the years, he had heard too many stories and witnessed too many tragedies. He didn't want that for his family.

"Why do you think I kept the dagger hidden?" the pawnbroker whispered in awe at his son's staunch conviction.

Shaking his head, the janitor swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "And yet, you made your daughter a slave. That should never have happened, not by her own father's hands," he condemned his father, vowing to be a better man. Turning, he marched out of the room and headed toward the front door, and in that moment, he decided to get to know his sister and make his own choice, despite what everyone else thought, even his own son. His hand gripped the doorknob and he paused, feeling the Dark One's eyes on him. "You're not getting your dagger back, either," he vowed before yanking the door open and leaving.

~SQ~

Casually skimming the Daily Mirror, Regina primly sat with her legs crossed at the wrought iron bistro set on the back patio, enjoying the afternoon sun in relative peace. Every once in a while, she'd look up over the top of the paper when Emma cursed, and she would smirk with clear amusement because the sheriff was getting up off the ground, again. Typical Anne, she thought, refocusing on the article she was reading.

Emma Swan had underestimated the diminutive Anne McCormac. The second in command of the queen's guard was a force to be reckoned with. She'd entered King Leopold's service disguised as a man at fifteen and had luckily befriended Monty Elmwood, who had been surprised to learn McCormac's secret. Then, as Queen Regina assumed the throne, the feisty, auburn haired castle guard was rewarded for her loyal service, and because of her unique skill set, she was made the scout grandmaster. Despite her small stature, Anne was a remarkable fighter, quick and agile, and a proficient killer; and now, she was assessing the sheriff's potential to be the queen's personal bodyguard.

"Goddamn it!" the blonde cursed as she stood up, not bothering to brush the grass off her very blemished blue jeans. She rolled her shoulders to loosen her sore muscles and resettle her green shirt, discolored from all of her close contact with the lawn. Regina wasn't going to be happy about the stains.

"Stop screwing around, Swan, and hit me," Anne tersely scolded, crossing her arms. She watched the recruit with a keen eye, analyzing and assessing her strengths and weaknesses. "Have you ever been in a fight?" she mocked, tilting her head.

Confused by the question, Emma rubbed the back of her neck with her right hand. "Yeah, nothing big, though," she answered with a shrug. "It was just the usual posturing with a few quick punches and kicks."

"Show me," the scout ordered, taking a threatening stance.

"But," the blonde started and stopped. She glanced over her shoulder at the former mayor who was reading the newspaper. "David said—"

"Show me," Anne demanded with more bite. She took an abrupt step forward and moved to engage her student. However, she missed by a mere centimeter, which made her smile. "Good," she praised softly. "Now, hit me," she sharply instructed. The incoming onslaught was okay for a hodgepodge of fighting techniques, typical street fighting. The hits were light, easy to block, but more importantly, they had precision. Chuckling, she taunted lightly, "We're not playing patty cake, Swan." That must've done it because the next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on the ground. A warm chortle rumbled out of her throat. "That's better." Now, she had something to work with and mold.

"What's Kathryn doing here?" Emma pondered, watching the blonde councilwoman walk toward Regina from the driveway. Suddenly, her feet were kicked out from under her, and she face-planted into the grass, groaning. She was going to hurt that night.

"Never take your eyes off your opponent," the scout stated sagely with a cocky half smirk. "Now, we start your training."

Rolling onto her side, the sheriff looked up at the pint-sized terror, and squeaked, "What have we been doing for the last thirty minutes?" She was not comforted by the resulting, husky laugh.

Across the yard, Regina looked up upon hearing Anne's amusement and saw Emma sprawled out, once again, on the ground. She smiled as she shook her head and folded the lifestyle section of the paper. Hearing footsteps, she turned to her right and saw Kathryn Nolan walking across the patio.

"Good afternoon, Regina," the councilwoman greeted with a smile, honest warmth in her voice. The two women sparring across the way caught her attention. She smirked and nodded at the former mayor's gesture to sit. "Thank you," she acknowledged. She continued with a bit of mirth, "Well, the sheriff's certainly being put through the paces."

Humming in response, the brunette readily agreed, "Anne does enjoy a challenge."

Nodding at the newspaper on the table, Kathryn smiled and said, "Good, you read the paper." She paused as she pulled out the local section, and added, "That's actually why I stopped by." Tapping a manicured nail on a particular article, she elaborated, "Journey Home has become quite the social movement."

"Snow never did know when to leave well enough alone," Regina sighed, rolling her eyes. She frowned slightly and was only mildly curious as to the reason for the blonde's visit. It wasn't as if she didn't get at least one call a week from the woman or a few e-mails from the mayor. "Why is this a concern of yours?" she inquired quietly.

"It's a town concern, Regina," the councilwoman corrected with just a hint of frustration. She kept her focus on the former mayor whose attention was split between her and the thrashing happening across the lawn. "Faction lines haven't blurred enough, yet," she continued, pursing her lips. "Any progress made since the election will be brushed away by this Journey Home nonsense." With a wave of her right hand, she rolled her eyes, indicating her exasperation with the situation.

"It seems as though the damage has already been done," the brunette sighed, suddenly tired. She pulled her gaze away from Emma and Anne, silently dreading the impending request that was no doubt coming. Tilting her head in mock interest, she softly added, "I don't know what you expect me to do about it." Honestly, she was a consultant for the Sheriff's Department. The woman sitting across from her had more political clout than she. Of course, she had been out of touch, given events of the last few months.

Shaking her head, the blonde flashed a kind smile. "You have more sway than you think, Regina," she explained with clear respect. Shifting in her seat, she rolled her lips and briefly glanced away. She didn't like putting everything on the table, but she remembered her father's dealings with Queen Regina of the Dark Forest and his admiration for the young monarch. How the usurper had held a majority of King Leopold's kingdom after being captured in battle, almost executed, and eventually exiled from Snow White's mish-mash realm, she had no idea, but this woman's lands had stayed strong. Any royal had to respect that degree of loyalty and power. Clearing her throat, she clarified, "With Emma endorsing Herman, the animal folk working in the Sheriff's Department, and the Crows Guard's neutralizing presence, the sheriff standing by your side carries serious weight." And, then, with a hint of awe, she added, "You crafted the sheriff into a true nonaligned, a figure anyone and everyone can support."

Raising an eyebrow, Regina regarded the other woman with veiled curiosity before huffing, "Emma Swan makes her own choices." She looked away, feigning disinterest. Sometimes she wondered what people thought of the supposed alliance between the evil queen and savior, not that it mattered.

"Of that, I have no illusions," Kathryn chuckled softly with a dismissive wave of her hand, enjoying their dance. She pushed on, adding, "But you guided her." Pausing, she shook and dropped her head before refocusing on the former mayor. "She couldn't have navigated the royal political minefield so deftly without help." She lowered her voice as she continued, "People know, Regina. A majority of the citizens like it here in Storybrooke." Stopping, she waited until the other woman met her eyes before she went on. "I do. I have Jim, and here, we can just live. No kingdoms. No weight of responsibility or duty on our shoulders. We're living. We're free to pursue our dreams. Hell, I may become the next ADA." She laughed, relishing in her true contentment.

The brunette hadn't expected this degree of open honesty. Her brow furrowed slightly in quiet contemplation. Had the citizens actually reached some sort of accord with the Dark Curse? Could she salvage some type of life out of this whilst bound to Emma Swan? Schooling her features, she looked away again, gazing across the yard with unseeing eyes. Flatly, she demanded, "What would you ask of me?" Because that was what it always came down to, someone wanting something.

Surprised by the question, the councilwoman felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. "Continue this path, convince the sheriff to find and arrest Albert Spencer," she quickly answered, feeling hopeful. "I think you'd agree if we could make an example out of King George for breaking the laws of this land, the other royals will start toeing the line."

"Indeed, however, the city will need to approve the sheriff's proposal for a new jail," the former mayor countered, turning to face her guest. She cocked an eyebrow and waited expectantly, anticipating an instant refusal.

Things had to change for Storybrooke to grow and survive, and adjustments had to be made to accommodate the diverse, displaced peoples living within the borders of the cursed community. As time had passed, Regina Mills had repeatedly found herself as a consultant to Mayor Herman and had, on numerous occasions, enlightened him on a myriad of topics, the latest being that the local judicial system couldn't use exile as a punishment since nearly every citizen would lose their memories upon crossing the border. This had been one of the mayor's lengthiest calls, to date. Thankfully, he had understood and embraced reason, but there were a few holdouts on the city council feeling pressure from their royal constituents.

All of this was quite strange for the evil queen. Although her kingdom had been contested by Snow White's claim to the throne, she had maintained profitable and cordial diplomatic relations with quite a few realms within the Enchanted Forest and regions beyond, even after her subsequent exile. Regina had expected to shift economic gears by focusing more on self-sufficiency and offshore lands. However, she had lost no significant trade. If only she had had peace, she would've driven Snow White into financial ruin, dragging down the mindless masses who had blindly followed her.

Nodding, Kathryn had expected the request, and unbeknownst to her reclusive friend, she had forged a close alliance with Mitchell Herman. Her father would've been proud of her political prowess. "Catch Spencer, and the rest will fall into place. I'll make sure of that," she said in response. Of course, she'd read the sheriff's proposal and had easily spotted the brunette's deft hand. She smiled brightly and reached out to clasp the other woman's hand, fondness lighting her eyes. "I'm glad we had this chat, and next time, we'll do it over lunch," she offered, squeezing the hand captured in hers before letting go and standing. Looking across the yard, she released a breathy laugh, and said, "I'll leave you to your spectacle."

Regina frowned as she refocused on Anne and Emma across the yard. The new penitentiary facility would be a huge win for the Sheriff's Department. And by stuffing King George in a cell, there would be an even bigger win in stabilizing the shifting dynamic of the populace. Her eyes drifted closed as she took in a deep breath, her expression relaxing. For the first time in months, she truly believed everything was going to work out.

"Your Highness," Monty greeted his queen softly, hesitant to disturb her moment of solitude. He had passed Princess Abigail halfway down the driveway. The royal was pleasant and neutral enough to suspend his suspicions and earn a respectable salutation, but he was curious as to the reason for her visit, fully aware the two spoke over the phone frequently.

After a slow exhale, the brunette turned her head toward her commander, and quietly ordered, "We need to find Albert Spencer and arrange for a very public arrest." She paused and shrugged before adding, "We at least need to make a show of the Sheriff's Department taking him in." Her gaze dropped as she looked past him, watching a stray cat travel along the hedges.

Elmwood flashed a rare, broad smile as he stood at parade rest. "I believe that can be arranged," he supplied. Noting her open curiosity, he explained, "Someone has detained him in a secluded section of the mines." Frowning, he continued, "He hasn't been too forthcoming with information."

"Really?" the former mayor drawled, resting her chin on the palm of her right hand. She didn't recognize the cat. "The wayward king refuses to reveal his captor," she mused softly. Since the election debacle, the man hadn't lacked for enemies, or disgruntled friends for that matter, and she knew he would be easy to manipulate. A man's pride was typically his undoing. She pondered for a moment, watching the new feline groom, and quietly hatched a plan to ensure the Sheriff's Department would receive their laurels for the arrest, relaying them to Elmwood.

"As you command," he responded with a respectable bow as Emma and Anne approached. Looking up at the two women, he scowled and prompted, "Finished already?" He checked his watch. There was still plenty of daylight left.

Rolling her eyes, McCormac acknowledged her liege with an elegant bow. "Your Highness, it'll take some work, but I think I can salvage our newest recruit." She flashed a crooked smile, eyes crinkling with mirth. Her clothes were also free of any dirt or stains.

Regina smirked, sharing in her guard's open amusement, her gaze darting to and searching the blonde. She pursed her lips at the large, green and brown blotches smeared across the woman's clothes.

"Hey!" Emma protested as she dropped into the other bistro chair. "I did okay, today." She slouched, crossing her arms. Pouting slightly, she rolled her lips before smiling back at the brunette. "Seriously, we should deputize the Crows Guard," she smirked.

Releasing a loud harrumph, Monty crossed his muscular arms in defiance. "We serve at the queen's pleasure and at her discretion," he gruffly informed the sheriff, fixing her with a hard stare. He was starting to like Emma Swan, but he wasn't about to make it easy for her.

With eyes wide, the blonde held up her hands and shook her head. "I was joking, geez." In that moment, she knew the stern commander was teasing her, and in agreeing to join the guard, she knew she had made the right choice, for herself and Regina. Her gaze drifted to the former mayor, and she relished in her newfound anchor, again. A mischievous grin crept across her face, and she stage-whispered, "Tell them to let me deputize them, Regina."

And the brunette laughed heartily as Monty snorted and Anne rolled her eyes, walking away. Regina smiled fondly at the sheriff and shook her head. Softly, she gently chided with an open smile, "You're ridiculous." Her eyes held warm affection for the other woman.

Emma beamed, seeing that warm twinkle in brown eyes, her grin now baring teeth. She was drawn into the playfulness of their magic, bouncing and hopping between them like an excited kitten. Then, biting her lip, she glanced away as a blush threatened to spill across her cheeks. "Hey, look," she instructed, pointing at the cat sitting beside the hedge, still feeling the former mayor's eyes on her. "I don't recognize that cat. Is she new?"

Humming in response, Regina's attention drifted back to the tortoiseshell surveying her yard. "Neither do I," she responded softly, reminding herself to get the live trap out of the garage's attic. She felt herself relaxing, again. "We'll have to trap her and take her by the veterinarian."

"I have another matter to discuss with you, Your Highness," Elmwood interrupted, frowning slightly. When his queen's eyes met his, he continued, "Both Bruce Farmer and Alexander Sirtis have been sentenced militiae mutatio for two months."

"I see," the brunette commented, her lips forming a hard line. Of course, she understood, but she didn't have to like it.

Monty kept his sigh in check, knowing his liege favored the younger Sirtis brother. "I've adjusted the duty roster to cover their temporary absence," he elaborated unnecessarily. Feeling his phone vibrate, he slipped the device from his belt and, receiving a permissive nod from Regina, checked his message. With a scowl, he bowed his head and excused himself.

Once the commander was around the corner of the house, Emma asked with a worried inquisitiveness, "Bruce and Alex got in trouble? It wasn't their fault the kid ran off." She studied the former mayor's profile.

"No, but they did allow him to slip away," Regina explained in a patient tone. Her gaze drifted up to the bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight. "It was their job to protect Henry, to watch him," she started, turning back to her friend. "Regardless of the circumstances, they had a job to do and failed. Now, they face the consequences of that failure."

With a furrowed brow, the sheriff quickly countered, "But Alex is just a kid. He hasn't even graduated from high school." How the young drummer went to school, did his homework, watched Henry, and did whatever other Crows Guard duties he had was beyond her.

"You're confusing norms, again, Emma," the former mayor gently reproved. "In this world, he's perceived as a young adult, finding his way in the world, but in the other, he's a man with responsibilities." Her gaze searched the other woman's for a long second. "Alexander carries a lot of weight on his shoulders, being assigned to a prince only adds to the pressure." Monty had hesitated naming the drummer as Henry's primary guard, but the pair had gotten on so well that she had thought it would make things easier on her son.

Slouching in her seat, the blonde mumbled, "Henry's not going to be happy." She saw the sad, despondent look ghost across Regina's features and sighed. After a thick swallow, she tenderly inquired, "Has he tried to talk to you?"

The brunette scoffed, clearly irritated. "About what?" she sneered in annoyance, glaring out across the lawn. "We haven't had a proper conversation since he was ten." She didn't mean for all the bitterness to creep into her voice, but she was so angry with herself. She was tired of the monosyllabic answers, the cool look in his eyes, and his physical distance. He'd always been such a loving boy, so tactile in his affections. The trip to New York had brought a brief reprieve from those particular heartaches, at least until Neal had entered the picture, but now, back at home, she felt his emotional absence even more acutely.

"He's upset you didn't tell him who you really were," Emma blurted hurriedly, deciding to bite the bullet. She rolled her lips, and added, "That you didn't tell him about the curse."

"Too little, too late I suppose," Regina remarked offhandedly, waving her left hand dismissively. She caught the blonde's pained look and sighed heavily. Resting her clasped hands on her lap, she stared blankly forward, perfectly impassive. She opened her mouth to say something else, but words didn't want to come out. Her plan for them before the savior had arrived in Storybrooke still felt like defeat.

But, the sheriff waited.

"He was such a happy boy," the former mayor rasped wistfully, eyes still facing forward, subtly wringing her hands nervously. "I knew he would outgrow the town, one day. So, I experimented with the mechanics of the curse and made plans." Her watery eyes cut to the woman next to her as she admitted, "I even bought a house in Bangor."

"Wait, what?"

Taking a deep, slow breath, the brunette looked up at the blue sky and swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. "Gold told Henry that he was adopted, which brought a storm of questions I was not prepared for nor willing to answer," she replied, shaking her head. "I tried, but he never seemed satisfied." Pausing, she huffed and watched one of her regular stray cats mosey toward the new one still sitting at the hedge.

"So, he stopped hanging out with his friends after the school book fair," the blonde inferred with dark mirth. "And instead of moving to Bangor, you stayed here so Henry could see Archie." She shook her head as a pang of guilt settled in her chest. "Then, I showed up," she mumbled, releasing a heavy sigh.

Not wanting to wallow in the past, Regina shrugged and flatly intoned, "What's done is done, Emma." She watched the two cats chase each other in and out of the hedge, running down the length of the lawn with tails up in the air. Their play brought a small smile to her face.

Shifting in her seat, Emma bit her lip and wondered aloud, "Aren't you going to try?"

"Try?" the former mayor prompted, frowning after the cats had disappeared into the woods behind her house. She looked at the other woman with a puzzled expression. "Any attempt to earn his affections will not be well received," she retorted with minimal ire. What the hell did Emma think she had been doing all this time? "You don't think I want to fight for him?" she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the sheriff. Her anger flared as her desire to fight roiled within her. "After his little adventure, last week, I think his opinion of me is quite clear."

"Regina, he's just confused," the blonde whined. She reached out toward her friend, feeling the magic automatically slinking from her, but the other woman abruptly stood, taking several steps away. "He loves you."

The brunette winced and shook her head. Everything had been fine, and it had been a good day. Pursing her lips, she flexed her hands a few times, unsure what to do with herself. She sensed the sheriff's magic in the background, keeping a cautious distance, and she was thankful for it.

"I'm sorry," Emma said, disguising her hurt feelings. "I was just trying to help."

"I realize that," Regina sighed, glaring at the grass. Her eyes cut to the blonde, but her body didn't move, remaining rigid. "Whether or not he absolves me of my sins in his mind is inconsequential because I love him, and I will endure his caustic judgements." She looked forward, once more. Sorrow hoarsely laced her voice as she said, "Since our binding, at least I get to see him every day, again." And being the fighter that she was, she turned to face her companion straight on while stating with absolute certainty, "I will not abandon him because my feelings are hurt." She lifted her chin, wanting to make her stance clear beyond a doubt. "There are two gifts I continually strive to give Henry, roots and wings." Pausing, she studied Emma's watery expression, and concerned, she tentatively caressed her magic against the blonde's. Softly, gently, she murmured, "We shall see how he utilizes them."

"Okay," the sheriff whispered. Because, really, what was she going to say to that? As she watched the former mayor walk toward the garage, she wiped angrily at her treacherous eyes, and the more she fought back the tears, the tighter her throat constricted until it was almost impossible to breathe. She threw her head back and gulped in air with sobbing breaths. She cried, and hiccupped, and cursed.

Barely making it inside the safety of the garage, Regina was relieved that none of the Crows Guard were tinkering on their bikes. She closed the side door with a loud thud and collapsed back against it. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths as tears streamed down her face. She hadn't meant to be so brutally honest and expose her vulnerable heart, but gods, Emma wanted to fix her relationship with Henry so badly. She'd felt it for weeks, now, and it meant the world to her. Even in that moment of unbounded sorrow, she could sense the other woman's—.

Her eyes widened in sudden realization. No, she told herself, shaking her head. It was a misguided sense of longing because Emma wanted be a part of a family. Emma only felt that way because she had found somewhere to belong with her, Henry, and the Crows Guard. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Emma deserved better than her.

So, licking her lips, Regina pushed herself away from the door and wandered further inside the three-car garage. She frowned, thinking of how she could subtly remind the blonde to be more cognizant of pushing her magic, and emotions, to her, but she was drawing a blank. Instead, she pulled down the stairs to the attic and went searching for her live trap.

~SQ~

Ruby Lucas nervously rocked back and forth from toe to heel as she waited for someone to answer the front door of 108 Mifflin Street. She glanced around, as it had been a while since she had last visited, and spotted a few loitering Crows Guard in the driveway. When one met her eyes, she smiled and gave a short wave. She bit her lip as the guard gave her a chin-up nod. Finally, the broad, white door opened wide to reveal Jason Sirtis. "Hey, Jason, how's it going?" she questioned, quickly slipping inside.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lucas," the guitarist greeted with a soft smile. However, he kept his interactions strictly professional and befitting a queen's guard. "Fine, thank you. Her Highness and Lady Emma are waiting for you upstairs in the master bedroom," he supplied, closing the door and locking it.

"Okay," the waitress drawled and acknowledged with a nod before she trotted up the winding staircase. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jason cross the foyer, and not for the first time, she pined over his handsome, younger brother who was still in high school until spring. When her foot reached the top of the stairs, she called, "Emma? Regina?" She sniffed the air and noted there were far fewer scents on the second story.

"In here, Ruby," Regina casually replied from the chaise in her bedroom, dog-earing a corner of her catalogue before turning the page. She paid no mind when the wolf slinked into the room.

Hesitantly crossing the threshold, Ruby quickly scanned the inner sanctum of the evil queen and was rather disappointed. She pursed her lips at the clean, yet muted, color scheme with tastefully classic décor. "Um, I got your text. Cryptic much?" she supplied, stopping to stand next to the sheriff who sat cross-legged on the end of the queen-sized bed.

A broad smile spread across Emma's face as she looked up at her friend. "Yeah, I have some bad news," she answered, picking up a magazine from off the bed. She held it out to her part-time deputy as she explained, "We need to start wearing uniforms."

"What?" the waitress blurted, taking the offered publication and flipping through page after page of bland, utilitarian clothing. She paused and sneered at a particularly ugly ensemble. "Like what Puma wears?" she asked for clarification, wrinkling her nose. "Those are hideous," she declared, resuming her appraisal of the clothing. Stopping, she tossed the catalogue back on the bed, and with her hands on her hips, she whined, "I'm only part-time." She'd quit right there, right that instant, if she didn't like the extra pocket money so much. It was how she kept Granny placated with DirecTV, among other things like ding-dongs.

Chuckling softly, the former mayor appraised the two women by the foot of her bed and flatly stated, "It's a moot point, Dear. The city council decided last night. It was unanimous." She couldn't fault the decision when she actually approved of it. With the Sheriff's Department representing a unified front both visually and politically, things were bound to stabilize in Storybrooke.

"Damnit," Ruby hissed, crossing her arms and jutting her hips to one side. She sighed softly before pouting, "So, I had to come all the way over here for you to tell me this." Scowling, she glared down at her boss.

"No," Emma drawled, picking up on her friend's ire and dropping her grin. She wasn't happy about it, either, but at least the city council had given them the option to select a uniform instead of assigning one, which would have been absolutely horrible. Quickly glancing over at the lounging brunette, she elucidated with only a hint of excitement, "We have to pick one." She tried to be excited over it, but she really wasn't.

Frowning, the waitress quickly demanded, "What do you mean pick one?" If the blonde thought this was how she wanted to spend her precious off-time, she had another think coming. She had a chore list twenty items deep at the bed and breakfast.

Rolling her eyes, the sheriff stood and headed toward the walk-in closet. She gestured for her friend to follow her. "I thought you'd like to help us decide on the new uniform," she explained, walking inside the luxurious closet. "But we could stick with something just as fugly as Puma's," she quipped with a mischievous smirk, looking over her shoulder at the trailing brunette.

However, as she entered the room of full of pretty things, Ruby's annoyance evaporated as her eyes caressed over all the beautiful clothing on display, and she cooed in utter delight. Idly, she reached out and lightly touched the soft, silky materials of blouses, blazers, skirts, dresses, and trousers. Then, her eyes fell on the blonde's meager selection of clothing off to one side, not even coming close to filling the generously allotted section. She smiled with a hint of sadness but good-naturally tutted, "You need to up your wardrobe game, Em." Although the light-weight sweaters didn't look that bad, the collection of tanks and skinny jeans clashed against the cashmere, silk, and satin.

"Whatever," Emma grumbled with a pronounced pout, crossing her arms and gesturing to the three uniforms hanging one of the rods. "Anyway, we've narrowed it down to three options: solid black, khaki and green, or khaki and black."

The waitress forced herself to focus on the task at hand. "Those are real winners," she muttered, reaching out and touching the stiff material. Sighing, she scrunched her face while saying, "Well, let's get this over with. So, I'm modeling scratchy poly-wool blend all afternoon?" This wasn't how she had wanted to spend her afternoon. She wanted to be doing something fun or getting something done, even if it was just renting a movie and painting her nails or completing a few things from her never ending to-do list.

Rolling her eyes, the sheriff reminded her, "I offered to feed you."

"Feed me what?" Ruby countered, unable to keep the sassy smirk off her face. "You were just complaining about the chemistry lab set up in the kitchen," she needlessly reminded her favorite blonde. She pushed the first two uniforms out of the way to look at the third. None of them looked appealing on the hanger, especially next to the rest of the closet.

"Don't tell me you didn't smell the Guinness beef stew and the bread bowls in the oven," remarked Regina from the chaise. She was almost finished with her catalogue and would be forced to actively endure the civil servant fashion parade. Why had she let Emma talk her into helping?

Moving to the doorway, the waitress cocked her head at the former mayor. "Well, yeah," she started but stopped to sniff the air again. "But I didn't want to assume I'd be getting any of it." Boy, did it smell good. She loved warm, fresh bread and soft, tender meat, then, dipping the bread in the leftover juice. She almost shuddered with excitement.

Smirking devilishly, Regina closed her magazine, resting it against her stomach. She tilted her head to one side and silkily praised, "Oh, the wolf's housebroken."

"Har har," Ruby dryly retorted, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Immediately, she flashed a toothy grin and said, "Granny made sure I had appropriate wolfy manners. I only bite when asked." She was warmed by the other brunette's soft, deep chuckle. Taking a deep breath and basking in the scent of food, she turned around and looked forlornly at the three uniforms. "So, I have to change into these?" she prompted, moving to take one down and examine it more closely.

"Nope, that's what she's here for," supplied Emma, again donning a broad grin, happy Regina was in an accommodating mood. She bit her lower lip while focusing on the uniforms, lightly, playfully stroking her magic against the other woman's.

Clearly confused, the waitress regarded the blonde for a moment before asking, "Regina's going to model them?" Somehow, she didn't believe Regina Mills would ever wear a uniform, but that woman could probably make a potato sack look good.

"I think not," the former mayor quickly and fervently countered. Shifting on the chaise after discarding her heels, she curled her legs under her and smoothed her blouse. "Let's get this over with, I have plans with a book and a tumbler of cider this evening." Sundays were supposed to be her day, an arrangement easily agreed upon early on between herself, Emma, and the Crows Guard.

Laughing at the prickly prodding, the sheriff explained, "No, she's going to help move things along and maybe save us a few hundred bucks."

"Okay," Ruby drawled as she was suddenly surrounded by purple smoke. "Wait, what?" she startled. But as the magic cleared, she smirked, exclaiming, "Oh, cool!" She glanced at the blonde beside her before moving to the full-length mirror at the end of the closet. The khaki and green wasn't bad, but it wasn't great, either. "I don't know," she hesitantly muttered. Turning, she frowned and disdainfully added, "I look like a forest ranger." Then, she focused her full attention on her boss and snickered, "That doesn't do anything for your hair."

Releasing a heavy sigh as she checked herself out in the mirror around her deputy, Emma reluctantly agreed, "Yeah, not so much with this one." She glowered, realizing her part-timer actually looked good in the first uniform.

"Well, step out so I can see," Regina instructed, as she was curious. After all, if she was going to magically dress them, she was going to get some kind of a show. She smirked as the two women exited the closet. Easily, she capitulated in a low tone, "I am going to have to look at you all day. I should have a say in this."

"Oh, my God, it's like trying on things for Granny," the waitress admitted with a little giggle. She strutted out into the bedroom with the sashay and grace of a runway model, completing the walk with a twirl.

However, the sheriff was not amused. She stomped out sulkily. "See? Satisfied?" she queried in a dramatic huff, raising her arms halfway and dropping them. The palms of her hands smacked against her thighs. Upon seeing silent signal to turn, she groaned and slouched, but she did as she was instructed. "Oh, my God, this is going to be just like trying on those suits in Manhattan," she melodramatically complained.

"Hmm. I see what you mean, Ruby," the former mayor commented contemplatively, ignoring the blonde's tantrum and the agitated frolic of her magic. "Fine," she agreed before enveloping the pair in another swirl of magic.

Looking down at herself in a khaki and black uniform, Ruby nodded with satisfaction. "This is kinda sharp, but a tie? Really?" she pondered, cocking an eyebrow at the other two women. Like the unisex uniform wasn't emasculating enough?

"That's supposed to be for dress," Emma remarked with a frown, playing with her own tie. It already felt too tight, although she knew it wasn't. She slowly wandered back toward the mirror. "I don't know," she sighed uncertainly. "Maybe?" She fidgeted, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"That would be acceptable," Regina finally decided, approving of the clean, crisp lines of the black trousers and tie as well as the black pocket flaps and epaulettes on the shirt. Of course, she was partial to black, anyway. "Ready for the last one?" she inquired, saving what she thought was the best for last.

"Hit me!" the waitress agreed with glee, finally getting into the process. Once the purple cloud dissipated, she looked down and grinned at the all black uniform. "I'm a ninja," she quipped, striking a pose she had seen on television. Her hand bumped the brim of a hat, and her focus quickly shifted as she readjusted it on her head. "Oh, a hat!" she cooed. Anything other than a hairnet was a welcome change.

Exiting the closet, the sheriff had a dubious expression. "I don't know about the hat, Regina," she nervously admitted. Of course, she knew she looked good in hats, but any uniform with a hat made her uncomfortable. It reminded her of her days running from the law.

"It's quite fetching," the former mayor simply stated after quick appraisals of both women. Both appeared as serious civil servants and exuded the expected level of authority. And if the women seemed this sharp, Karl Puma and Jackson Hart would certainly toe the line quite nicely.

Quickly agreeing, Ruby put in her two-cents with a simple, "Yeah, I vote for this one." She continued to appraise herself in the mirror, running her hands over her hips and posterior.

"Do keep in mind, Emma, the khaki shirts would be more likely to reflect light at night and give your position away to any criminals," Regina clarified her selection, hoping to waylay the doubt ebbing off of the blonde. She watched her friend closely, silently admiring the way the uniform accentuated her athletic physique.

Defensively, Emma scoffed with a dramatic roll of the eyes, "It's not like we have a huge crime rate, here." She crossed her arms and cocked her hips to one side, glaring down at the still sitting brunette.

"Well, there has been a rash of power-hungry megalomaniacs, lately," the waitress supplied, still fiddling with her uniform.

"Well, I guess that's it, then," the sheriff relented with a sigh, taking off the hat. She looked down at herself. Her eyes crept over to the former mayor and reflexively returned a soft smile as she fingers drummed along the hat's brim.

Content with their choice, Ruby took an akimbo pose and promptly inquired, "So, we're going to eat, now. Right?" She inhaled deeply and sighed with contentment. Stew and bread filled her nostrils, and her mouth watered in anticipation. She could already tell it was going to be better than Granny's.

"And there go those manners," Regina retorted with dark amusement, uncurling. She effortlessly slipped into her heels, stood, and sauntered out of the bedroom, leaving the sheriff and deputy in their new uniforms.

"Hey, aren't you going to change us back?" Emma called, tossing her new hat on the bed. She released a breathy chuckle at the rich, wicked laughter coming from the stairs.

~SQ~

Neal stood at the end of the driveway, stymied by the zealous Crows Guard blocking the path. Seeing the sheriff step out of the garage, he called, "Emma!" hoping to garner her attention and get a pass.

Hearing her name, Emma turned and sighed at the sight that greeted her. Dusting her hands on her jeans to get rid of any remaining crumbs of cat food, she waved at the guard as she approached, grudgingly saying, "It's okay. He can come in." She really didn't feel up to dealing with her ex right then. There were so many things left unsaid and unresolved between them, and she really wasn't in the mood for navigating the emotional minefield of their past.

The janitor trotted up the drive toward the blonde. With one last glance over his shoulder, he chuckled, "Those guys mean business."

"You should meet some of the ladies," Emma replied, snorting at the understatement. She rolled her shoulders, remembering the bruises and soreness she'd earned from her most recent match with Anne. The feisty woman had really stepped things up since she'd started training her.

Eyes widening at the implication, Neal shook his head in quiet refusal. "Um, maybe not." Shifting nervously on his feet, he decided to get to the point of his visit. "So, where's Henry?"

"Grounded till he's fifty," she retorted sourly. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and looked up at the house, a scowl settling on her features. The reminder of the boy's behavior caused her mood to darken further, and not for the first time, she wondered if he'd managed to get all of their capriciousness combined.

Wanting to diffuse the tension, he joked, "Wow, sounds serious."

Emma fixed her ex with an unfriendly glare, not missing this side of the man. He had always tried to make light of serious situations. Even if it was just a defense mechanism, the blonde found it annoying. Narrowing her eyes, she barked, "It is, extremely so."

Neal hung his head briefly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, the gesture giving away his nerves and irritation. "I was hoping to get to see him, maybe work something out," he suggested in an attempt to keep things cordial.

Releasing a heavy sigh, the sheriff reluctantly advised, "We'll need to talk to Regina." She did not want the man in Henry's life, sure that he would carry on, true to form, and run off as soon as he discovered being a parent was a lot harder than it seemed.

He nodded in acknowledgement, having already figured out that he'd need to convince both women that he wanted to do right by his son. He'd also realized, in the short time that he'd seen the two women together, that Emma often deferred to Regina when it came to Henry. "That's cool. I get it," he agreed easily.

Surprised by the quick acceptance, she told him, "He's grounded, Neal. He goes to school. That's it." Hoping the list of restrictions might dissuade him, she added, "So, if you want to visit, it'll have to be here, and no TV, no computer, no video games—"

Neal's eyes widened as he considered the litany of lost privileges. "Geeze, what did he do?"

Emma muttered darkly, "Doesn't stay put." When she heard Neal's chuckle, she snapped, "It's not funny, Neal. He's going to get himself hurt or killed pulling this crap." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, as if challenging him to deny the seriousness of the matter.

Knowing it wasn't a good idea to keep antagonizing the blonde, he conceded, "Okay, okay." Quiet for a moment while he thought, he finally asked, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

The sheriff eyed him warily, but decided Henry's fascination with his father could possibly be worked to their advantage in this way. They'd tried nearly everything short of corporal punishment, and that was off the table as far as both mothers were concerned. "I guess at this point it wouldn't hurt, but—"

"Got to talk to Regina, first," he finished for her. He could play nice and follow the rules when he wanted to, and right then, it suited him immensely. His relationship with his own father was in shambles, but he sure as hell could put himself out there to be a father to his son, if the boy's mothers would let him take that role.

Not sure if he was working an angle or being serious, the blonde remained dubious about his apparent easy-going manner. "You could've called to discuss all of this," she suggested, subtly prodding for a motive.

Grimacing, Neal admitted, "Yeah, I needed to take a break." He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and stared pensively in the direction of downtown. It seemed that, while his father had made some positive changes, he was still, at his core, a man frightened by the prospect of losing control of a situation.

Emma let loose a quick bark of laughter. It appeared they were all having parental issues. "Dad getting on your nerves?"

"You could say that," he muttered, shaking his head at the absurdity of their situation. Not wanting to get into the subject of his father, he redirected the conversation. He'd been wondering what she'd been up to the last ten years, and decided it was as good a time as any to ask, "So, have you been okay?"

The sheriff frowned, squaring her shoulders. Immediately, she went on the defensive and demanded harshly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, Neal backpedaled, the confidence and fire in the woman before him foreign to their past interactions. While he didn't know what had happened to her since he'd left her, he did know that the Emma Swan of the present was not someone to tangle with lightly. "Nothing, I was just wondering if, you know, you've been doing alright."

The blonde took a quick step in his direction and snarled, "You mean since I got out of jail? Or while I was in jail?" Her hands had fisted at her sides as she tried to reign in her temper. Realistically, she understood that they would eventually have to have the conversation about why he'd left her, but she had enough on her plate, at the moment, without digging through the past, as well.

The janitor sighed heavily, shoulders dropping in exasperation and defeat. "I'm not trying to start anything," he tried to placate her.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back on her heels slightly in an effort to prevent herself from lashing out. Her voice was tight as she bit out, "Yeah, well, you don't get to ask me shit like that. We're nowhere near that."

Letting out a frustrated huff, he implored, "I'm trying here, Emma. I want to make it right." He knew how badly he'd screwed up when he had abandoned her, and his conscience was pushing him to make amends. The janitor had a firm understanding that he needed to work things out with his ex if he wanted to be a part of Henry's life.

"You can't, so don't," she snapped, so over everything. Her fingers pressed hard into her biceps as her protective nature flared. Without much thought, she accused, "And we'll be left picking up the pieces after you leave, so don't be getting Henry's hopes up."

"That's not fair," Neal immediately countered, hiding his hurt feelings. He'd only known about his son's existence for maybe five days, literally.

Unmoved by the man's lackluster rebuttal, the sheriff hissed, leaning forward, "Don't whine to me about what's fair." Damn, she had thought she'd moved on from all this crap, but the wounds were still deep and raw. She blinked repeatedly, turning away, not wanting him to see her cry.

"Look, I didn't come here to fight," the janitor lamented with clear honesty. He truly didn't want to make Emma's life difficult. "I just want to get to know my son," he added softly, hoping she would believe him.

And hearing the truth in his words, the sheriff pursed her lips and looked down at the concrete. "Whatever," she mumbled, still unwilling to forgive. Eventually, she would, but not today.

He looked at the side door and took a deep breath. Knowing this entire situation wasn't going to get any easier, he decided to bite the bullet. "So, I have it on good authority that you and Regina aren't a couple," he stated as neutrally as possible. Yet, he couldn't quite hide his curiosity when he quietly asked, "Why'd you pretend you were?"

"Who told you we weren't?" Emma instantly questioned, partially facing him and cocking an eyebrow. It was important to know who he'd been talking to about them.

"Papa," Neal replied with a shrug. Who else was he going to talk to? Tilting his head and avidly assessing her stance, he continued, "He also told me about your . . . situation." He paused for a long beat and softly added, "I didn't know you were magical." Because if he'd known back then, he would've kicked her out of his car and driven far, far away.

"Seriously? Are you getting judgy about this? Cause you're not allowed to have opinions about surprises, Mr. Son-of-Rumpelstiltskin," the blonde snarled. Her anger and righteous indignation bloomed to full wrathful glory as all the pain and hurt she normally shoved into the proverbial forgotten-corner-of-things-she-didn't-deal-with was suddenly illuminated.

With a deeply furrowed brow, he silently counted to ten before saying in a level voice, "You didn't answer my question. Why'd you pretend to be a couple?" He covertly glanced over his shoulder to see a few Crows Guard intently watching them, and he had to wonder if she was baiting him.

The sheriff pursed her lips, but surprisingly, she dispassionately answered, "I don't know. Maybe I wanted you to back off a little." Her gaze shifted from mad to hard.

"What do you mean?" the janitor simply prompted.

"Please, like you don't know," the blonde scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned and faced him, keeping her arms crossed. "You've been giving me these sad eyes since New York," she elaborated with a disapproving look.

"What? No, that's not it," Neal stammered. His mouth worked endlessly, but words failed to come out. Finally, he blurted, "I'm engaged!"

Releasing a short, sharp bark of laughter, Emma shook her head in disbelief. She pinned her former lover with a dark glare and ordered, "Then, act like it and back off." She'd fallen into that trap once, being the other woman, never again.

Unable to keep his own antagonism in check, he bristled at the insinuation. "You know what, I was just trying to be friendly," he explained, his voice full of hurt and irritation. "I was trying to reconnect," he hurriedly added.

"The only reconnection I want with you is my foot up your ass," she refuted in a verbal lightning strike.

With eyes blown wide in utter shock and surprise, the janitor couldn't help but take a step back. He shook his head as his mouth worked for a moment. Eventually, he managed to whisper, "Damn, you've changed."

"Well, life's been a bitch, and I was just starting to get a handle on things when, bam! All this crap lands in my lap," the sheriff more calmly explained, feeling as if her ex was finally taking her seriously. She rolled her shoulders, letting her arms drop to her sides, and in a more conversational tone, she continued with guilt lacing her words, "Now, thanks to your father's games, I've managed to screw up somebody else's life."

Well, damn, Neal knew exactly how that felt. "I'm sorry, Emma. I really am," he consoled, wanting to reach out and offer some sort of comfort, but he thought better of it. So, he sighed heavily and enlightened, "When I left the Enchanted Forest, Papa and I were supposed to go together, but he let go of me and let me slip away." He wanted her to know that she wasn't alone.

"I'm not going to be a shoulder for you to cry on, Neal," the blonde retorted, shaking her head. "You've got a fiancé for that." Yeah, she got what he was trying to do, and deep down, a part of her appreciated it. "I've got enough family drama to deal with. I don't need yours, too," she needlessly clarified. She didn't owe him anything.

Despite himself and their situation, he flashed a boyish smile and with open mirth, said, "I'm sure, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming." It was rather amusing, considering all their late night fantastical conversations about their parents.

"You're an asshole," Emma responded, seeing that mischievous twinkle. She looked away, unable to stop the breathy chuckle from escaping, a sharp pang of remembered fondness sweeping through her. Damnit, why does he have to be funny? she cursed to herself, unable to hold onto her anger.

However, neither were afforded any further opportunity to examine their emotional breakthrough. A loud bang sounded from inside the white house, and instantly, all the windows opened, releasing a horrible smell. A pale pink cloud slipped out the kitchen windows.

"REGINA?!" the sheriff called out, running full tilt into the house. She was only vaguely aware of Neal and a few Crows Guard following her through the side door. Waving her arms to disperse the sick, sour smell and pink smoke, she quickly slipped down the short hall and into the kitchen, loudly demanding, "What is that smell?"

Neal skidded in, hot on her heels; however, the giant chemistry setup taking up the entire island caused him to pause. Him eyes darted around, tracing the connecting glass tubes and bubbling liquid in beakers under open flames. Impressed and clearly intimidated by the complicated setup, the man blinked as his gaze swept across the kitchen. There were small crates, boxes, vials, and ingredients scattered all over the counters.

Sighing, the former mayor glared down at the ruined potion. "Yes, I'm fine," she distractedly replied, lifting the Florence flask from its stand with a set of tongs. She rolled the contents about and frowned. "That was a miscalculation," she answered with irritation, depositing the glassware on a cooling rack. She had heard Emma arguing with her ex in the driveway, used to the sour resentment that flowed through the bond when he was around. However, the sudden flash of affection for the man had felt like a slap and caused a hard knot to settle in her stomach, startling her into bumbling the potion.

"Wow, okay, Mr. Wizard, are you still trying to make that memory potion?" she inquired, spotting a paring knife with leafy, green herbs on the cutting board beside the other woman.

"Yes," the brunette answered tersely as she picked up a pen and jotted down a series of notes in a notebook. When she finished, she glanced up to see everyone still lingering in the doorway, and upon seeing Neal, she frowned. "I don't require an audience," she muttered, continuing her work.

"Any luck?" Emma prompted. She slipped around the island to one of the stools. The resulting glare made her smile as she pulled out a seat. "Just asking," she commented as she sat. "I'm guessing it's not going so well."

Accustomed to interruptions and ceaseless questioning, Regina continued to work, internally calculating adjustments. "You would be correct," she absently responded. Pausing, she looked over the rim of her glasses at the loitering Crows Guard in the doorway. When they started to leave, she explicated, "Although I loathe to give that imp any degree of satisfaction, Belle's unique skillset could prove useful." She simply didn't have enough time to dedicate to researching the bond, not with Emma's job and training and whilst taking care of her and Henry.

"Who's Belle?" Neal asked, looking at his ex.

Snickering, the blonde bit her lower lip before answering, "Your dad's girlfriend."

"I thought that was Lacey," the janitor added. His eyes darted between the two women as his face contorted, wondering if he was being played. After all, meeting his dad's lover had been an eye-opening moment.

With amusement lacing her tone, the brunette looked up, met the man's gaze, and easily clarified, "Lacey is Belle's cursed alter ego." She was mildly surprised how unlike Rumpelstiltskin the wayward son seemed, the mother's influence, perhaps?

"It's a long story," the sheriff quickly interjected, dismissing Neal's confusion and impending question with a wave of her hand. She had more important details to work out. With a broad gesture at the contraption on the kitchen island, she demanded, "So, how long will this thing be in here? It's been a couple of days, already."

"As long as necessary, Dear," the former mayor answered, resuming her tinkering.

"Dang it, sandwiches, again," Emma muttered with a pout as she slouched. It wasn't as if sandwiches were a bad thing. Sandwiches had been a staple in her day-to-day nutrition, as had been prepackaged foods, but living with the brunette, she'd gotten used to a more diverse culinary experience. Who knew chicken could be prepared a million different ways?

Sighing, Regina casually offered, "I promise I'll make you more lasagna as soon as this is put away." At that point, she realized the blonde was using her as some sort of buffer between herself and Neal, and she'd have to endure their presence.

"What's so special about Belle?" Neal distractedly pondered. He was thrown by the domesticity between the two women. For his ex, it was just bizarre.

Content to watch Regina work, the sheriff rested her chin in her left hand. This was easier. This was better, she decided. "Apparently, she's super smart and has some crazy eidetic memory superpower," she explained, observing as ingredients were grinded.

"I'm impressed, Emma, that's such a big word for you," the former mayor teased, flashing a playful smirk at the other woman. She carefully brushed the powder from the pestle into an Erlenmeyer flask and reached for the rack of test tubes with various colored liquids.

Biting her lower lip, the blonde rolled her eyes and grinned. She was itching to touch something but knew better. So, she huffed in mock annoyance and chided, "Yeah, yeah. You're not going to blow up the house or anything, right?" With half of the first floor in some state of repair, if they lost the kitchen, Emma would be devastated.

"It was a simple mistake," the brunette restated a tad sharply. Suddenly, her face felt flush, and she stopped in her preparations, pinning the sheriff with a hard glare. "We don't have butane burners in the Enchanted Forest," she explained in justification, bristling at the perceived insinuation of her failure. She felt criticized in front of her former mentor's son, but the playful coiling of Emma's magic with her own soothed and grounded her. Licking her lips, she swallowed and slowed her movements, and softly further elucidated, "I didn't expect the solution to come to heat so quickly. Sleeping curses are not nearly as volatile, it seems."

Pursing his lips, the janitor wasn't sure how to interpret their interactions; they weren't supposed to be a couple, but he pushed all that aside. He did have his own agenda, after all. "So, you're good at this stuff?" he asked, nodding at the chemistry lab on the island.

Blinking in surprise, Regina halted her actions and looked up at Henry's father. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she assessed the reason for his continued presence. Truth be told, she'd expected him to ask to see Henry or at the very least, drag Emma away to further harass her. "Well enough, I suppose, but Rumpelstiltskin could attest to that," she answered flatly.

"Yeah," Neal nodded, smiling softly. His mirth evident as he met his sister's subtle, questioning gaze. "He burned down our house a couple of times, early on," he easily admitted, and he thought he would honestly like to get to know her better.

"Did he, now?" the former mayor prodded with clear delight. A devious smirk spread across her face. "Interesting," she muttered, returning her focus to the task at hand. Maybe another day she would extend social pleasantries to Neal Cassidy, but not today. There was simply too much to do, too much chaos milling about the town. So, with a slightly bored tone, she questioned, "Is there a reason why you two are still in here?"

"No—"

"Yes, actually," the janitor interrupted his ex-girlfriend, stepping closer to his sister. However, the hard glint in her eyes stalled his approach. He slouched and shrugged, ignoring Emma's dramatic groan. "I was hoping we could discuss visitation with Henry while I'm still in town," he explained with a hopeful expression. Yet, when the windows all slammed shut, he startled and wildly glanced around the kitchen.

"He's grounded," Regina firmly stated, taking off her reading glasses. She reassessed the scruffy man before her, and she knew his type. Her eyes cut to the blonde and back.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Neal nodded, knowing better than to underestimate this woman's protectiveness. He flashed a charming, or what he hoped was charming, half smile and causally agreed, "Emma mentioned something like that, but I'd really like to get to know him." Pausing for a breath, he made a wide, open gesture at the house, and offered, "And if I need to do it here, that would be totally fine."

Careful to keep her expression neutral, the former mayor cocked an eyebrow and turned to the scowling sheriff who merely shrugged. The hostility rolling off the other woman via the bond was almost tangible. Obviously, the two former lovers had some sort of love-hate dynamic to which she would undoubtedly be subjected. Thus, she decided to take the diplomatic approach, and quickly acquiesced, "I'm sure we could work something out."

The janitor's grin was instantaneous. "That means a lot, thanks!" he gushed with a mixture of relief and joy. Catching the blonde's glare, however, he decided to get to his other point of business and fished a medium-sized vial from his coat pocket. "I do have another reason for coming by today," he started, putting the vial of Neverland spring water on the corner of the island. "I know Papa will never ask," he added.

In that moment, an out of character reaction from Regina immediately piqued Emma's interest. The brunette had winced and looked away when Neal said Papa. Concerned by the visible discomfort, the sheriff slipped closer to her friend. She narrowed her eyes at Henry's father as she recalled something similar happening in Gold's shop. However, she kept her mouth shut as he continued talking.

"But he hasn't had any luck crafting a cure. I was wondering if you could help," Neal finished, pointing at the vial on the marble countertop. It was a huge favor, one he didn't necessarily have the right to ask, but love did strange things to people. Through it all, he still loved his father.

Her anger flaring, Emma straightened and stomped around the island. "Oh hell, no," she barked. She reached for her ex's coat collar, snarling, "That bastard—."

"Rumpelstiltskin is a master potion maker," Regina interjected, choosing to ignore the blonde's tirade. Although she didn't understand where her friend's fury was coming from, exactly, she appreciated the other woman's magic protectively circling her own. It was soothing, keeping her in the present. "And, you expect me to believe he can't concoct a curative potion. He's already cured." Picking up the vial of spring water, she narrowed her eyes at her son's father, demanding, "What are you playing at?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, the janitor took a reflexive step backward, knowing he had to play this smart. "Nothing, really," he quickly answered. Sighing, he dropped his hands and laid it all out on the table. "Please, I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize any relationship I could have with Henry," he rasped, letting his anxiety slip through. Rubbing his face, he shook his head and started again, "It's just that he's my father, and that canteen only has so much water in it. And eventually, it will evaporate, run out. Then, he'll die." He wasn't big on playing the emotional card. In fact, he'd only used it on his father during the early days of the Dark One; but Regina was his sister, and that meant something to him.

The former mayor held the man's gaze for a long moment before finally relenting with a heavy sigh, "Very well." She turned her focus onto the glass vial of water. Her instincts told her to cast him out and protect her family, but there was something familiar about him. Was he that good of a thief to finagle his way into their lives only to strike when they least expected it? She frowned.

"Seriously?" Emma cried in hurt surprise. Damn, she wanted to break something. Her heated gleam darted between the two brunettes in the kitchen.

"You think after all that work to save his miserable life I'm just going to let him expire?" Regina snapped, bristling as the blonde's magic squeezed and grated against hers. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "No, I stand by what I said, if anyone gets to kill him, it'll be me," she decreed, straightening already perfect posture.

Neal blinked at Emma's outburst and Regina's wrathful declaration. Rolling his lips, he nervously squeaked, "Thanks?" If his sister was willing to help despite her obvious loathing toward their father, then, maybe she was more bark than bite. He caught the time on the microwave and cleared his throat. "I hate to drop this on you and leave, but I have a phone date to keep," he expounded, breaking into a bright, boyish smile when his eyes met his sister's. "I'm going to invite my fiancé to Storybrooke." Why did he just tell her that?

"Do you believe that's wise, Mr. Cassidy?" the former mayor quickly countered with evident concern in her tone. "This town has proven rather unpredictable, lately," she hurriedly added. Another stranger in town was absolutely the last thing any of them needed.

"We're getting married," the janitor proudly proclaimed. It felt good saying it out loud to someone who might care, eventually, if he played his cards right. He puffed his chest out with pride as he continued, "I don't want to keep secrets from the woman I love, and if that means I have to dredge up my past, then I'll do what I've got to do." And he could've almost sworn he saw approval in his sister's brown eyes, and it felt good.

"You've got to be shitting me," Emma groaned. All her pain and hurt came bubbling to the surface, and she felt betrayed and abandoned all over again. She shook her head, turning away from the others, hoping to hide the threatening tears.

"Emma," Regina rasped with a furrowed brow, intently watching the other woman whose emotions were all over the place.

"We'll talk later, Emma," Neal offered, casting a sad expression at his ex. He sighed when she said nothing. So, moving on, he refocused on his sister and valiantly attempted to reclaim his good mood, saying, "I'll call tomorrow, and we can hash something out." Turning around, he took several steps out of the kitchen, stopped, turned around, and with honest sincerity, he added, "Thanks, Regina." Then, he left the house.

The former mayor tilted her head in quiet contemplation. Neal Cassidy was certainly intriguing.

Emma Swan, however, was not impressed with the older, mature model of her former lover. And once the side door slammed shut, she made her opinion known. "Thanks, Regina," she mockingly hissed, crossing her arms and falling back against the kitchen counter.

"Really, Miss Swan," the brunette mildly reprimanded, rolling her eyes as she put on her glasses. She carefully placed the vial of spring water down and turned to retrieve a label from a small, plastic tote on the counter behind her.

"Don't 'Miss Swan' me," the blonde snapped, observing her friend as she labeled the vial and stowed it in a small wooden box, swaddled in a velvet cloth. Her magic lashed about like a whip, wanting to obliterate something; however, Regina's was in the metaphysical way. She agitatedly drummed her fingers on top of her arms. "That prick couldn't run away fast enough from me, and here he is, gushing all over his fiancé. And here you are, 'You want to see Henry? Sure! Let's make a friggin' spreadsheet!'" It hurt, damn it. She angrily wiped at her right eye.

"I'm obviously not going to get anything done," the former mayor lamented, deciding to stop for the night. Again, she removed her reading glasses and turned off the burners. She'd need to retrieve more butane cartridges from the garage.

"And you know what's worse, you letting him see Henry," the sheriff loudly shared, her nostrils flaring as she allowed old wounds to color her words. Standing upright, she put her hands on her hips as she continued her tirade, "You tried to run me out of town like we were in an old western, Regina."

Wounds and rage and betrayal and the myriad of other feelings that were manifesting as a hurricane around the blonde were not new to the brunette, and she'd weathered far stronger and darker impulses. Collecting herself while securing loose ingredients into their proper storage containers, she kept her tone and words measured. "If you'll recall, you didn't ask, did you?" she prodded, briefly pinning an icy glare on the woman beside her, hands still moving small, cloth bags and bottled tinctures. "You barged into it like a bull in a china cabinet," she reminded, closing a lid with a sharp clack as polished hardwood met polished hardwood. "Maybe, just maybe, if you had demonstrated some civility, an iota of decorum, we could've avoided a majority of that unfortunate unpleasantness," she countered darkly, finishing with her task. Of course, she couldn't know with any absolute certainty it would have been different, but she wasn't the type to dwell on what ifs.

Flustered and perhaps a tiny bit embarrassed, Emma deflated, immediately casting away all her fire. She slouched, sliding her hands in her jeans' pockets. "I would've thought you'd be on my side," she weakly admitted. She thought she'd have an ally in this with Regina.

The sudden shift of mood was disorienting, and for a moment, Regina looked vacantly at the blonde. She blinked and forced herself to focus as she stammered, "I…." Closing her eyes and shaking her head, she slowly walked over to her friend and firmly clasped the blonde's biceps. Gently, she explained, "This isn't about sides, Emma. This is about doing right by our son." She let a small smile curl her lips as she affectionately squeezed the strong arms. "If he wants to spend time with his father, so be it. I shall not repeat my past mistakes with Henry." Holding the sheriff's gaze, she released her and turned when she saw green eyes relax in understanding.

"This is going to end badly," Emma reiterated, watching as the brunette locked the small boxes and crates, moving them to one section on the kitchen counter. "Either Neal or his fiancé will break Henry's heart, and we'll be left to deal with the fallout," she grumbled, toeing the hardwood floor with her boot.

"Is this honestly just about Henry?" the former mayor hesitantly questioned as she proceeded to clean the kitchen counters. Food always made the blonde feel better.

"You, too?" the sheriff whined in frustration, glaring at the floor. She scowled and huffed as she crossed her arms, again. "Jesus, I'm not in love with him," she growled, grinding her teeth and falling back against the counter. "Between Neal's sad, puppy-dog eyes, Mary Margaret practically planning our nuptials, and now you—"

"What?" Regina prompted, halting her motions of wiping down the counter. An amused expression crept across her face as she threw away the used paper towels and stowed the cleaner. "The longing looks I've witnessed, but your mother…," she trailed off, chuckling softly as she moved around to the refrigerator, pulling out a series of small Tupperware containers and baggies.

"It's not funny!" snapped Emma with a pronounced pout. She gripped the edge of the counter, pressing heavily on her palms. Her eyes avidly watched the other woman move about the kitchen, collecting a plate from a cupboard and a knife from the silverware drawer.

"It's typical Snow White," the brunette said with clear mirth, as if it explained everything. She quickly retrieved two slices of bread from the breadbox and deftly began construction of a roast beef and swiss sandwich.

"Whatever," the blonde muttered, edging closer to the snack.

Shaking her head, the former mayor sighed, "Don't pout, Emma." She continued making the sandwich, careful to tailor it specifically to the sheriff's preferences of extra mayonnaise and pickles with the lunchmeat laid in an alternating pattern for maximum, even coverage. "Of course, I hold no illusions that you harbor romantic feelings for Neal, but that wasn't what I was attempting to ask," she elaborated, skillfully slicing the now complete sandwich in half. Truthfully, she didn't want to know.

"Oh," was the response as the plate of yumminess was placed in front of the sheriff.

"Hmm," Regina responded, washing her hands. As she dried them, she continued, "I realize he's hurt you, and I recognize this will be difficult for you." She returned the tea towel to its hook and casually collected the sandwich makings, returning them to the fridge. "Believe me," she added, giving the blonde an empathetic look, "I share your frustrations. But Emma…," she paused with her hand holding the refrigerator door open. Her eyes searched for something hidden. "If you allowed yourself to trust me, maybe you could afford Neal a chance, not for yourself but for Henry," she finished, pulling out a can of Dr. Pepper from behind a cup of celery stalks. She closed the fridge door before putting the soda next to the blonde's plate.

"Fine," Emma replied around a mouthful of roast beef. She took another large bite as the brunette left. "I hate it when you're right," she whispered into her sandwich as she popped the can open.

~SQ~

David Nolan slowly walked down the hall toward his previous place of employment. Uncurling the rolled-up newspaper in his hands, he, once again, studied the front-page photograph of his daughter, the sheriff, overseeing Deputies Puma and Hart leading Albert Spencer into the Sheriff's Department. His lips pursed into a firm line as he noted the unusually large number of citizens who happened to be present for the event. Folding the paper, he reached out and pulled open one of the double doors leading to the bullpen. He immediately spotted a Crows Guard sitting in the visitor area in the hall. Their eyes met for a second, but the guard simply went back to whatever he was doing on his cellphone.

Rounding the corner, he quickly scanned the large, open room. His gaze locked on the reading Albert Spencer who reclined on a cot in the second jail cell. Then, he saw Jackson Hart working at his desk. Regina was typing on her laptop at Ruby's desk. Their gazes met for a few seconds, with no pause in her keying, but he couldn't quite discern the meaning behind her expression. And finally, his eyes fell on his daughter, sitting behind her desk in her office.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed onward and knocked softly on the glass, and when her eyes met his, he smiled. "Can we talk?" he asked with just a tiny hint of hesitation.

"Um, sure," Emma answered, sitting up and shifting in her chair. Her eyes quickly assessed him as she gestured for him to sit in one of the visitors' chairs. Then, she quickly minimized her computer application and shuffled the documents strewn across her desk into a single pile. "What's up?" she prompted, spying the folded newspaper in his hands.

"I wanted to talk to you about this," David replied, opening the newspaper. He flashed the article but didn't move to give it to her. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he blankly stared at the photo.

Letting a broad grin spread across her face, the sheriff chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Score one for the Sheriff's Department," she quipped. The rumor mills were abuzz with the timely apprehension of the deceitful royal. Most of it was in their favor with only a few dissenters.

"The article says you're going to petition for a holding facility," the animal shelter staffer commented, not reacting to his daughter's attempt at humor. He fidgeted with the paper for a long moment, and finally, he looked up and asked, "How did you find him?"

"An anonymous tip," she replied, frowning. She sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "I can't officially talk to you about sheriff's business," she gently reminded him. So, she bit her lip and waited for the other shoe to drop. Of course, her father showing up there a few days after the article confirmed her suspicions.

Nodding, David simply said, "You know I've been looking for him for a while." He maintained eye contact.

"Yeah," Emma responded. She tilted her head, wondering where he was planning on taking this. "He's been rather closed-lipped about where's he's been hiding." She shrugged, hoping he'd take the hint and drop it.

"Is there going to be a trial?" he quickly questioned, his voice tight and quiet.

"Well, that's up to the ADA and Spencer's lawyer," the sheriff casually supplied. Her brow furrowed when she added, "In the interest of Storybrooke, there's a good chance this could be settled outside of court."

"So, he'll get away with it?" he snapped, standing up. He tossed the newspaper onto the chair. With his hands on his hips, he glared at Spencer in his cell.

"Whoa, Nelly. That isn't want I said," she explained, pushing away from her desk. The last thing she needed was for her father to attempt to assault a prisoner in her station. "He broke state law, David. If Dejean doesn't handle this carefully, some nosey-body from Augusta could be rolling into town, and we don't want that." Damn, she had enough problems with Greg Mendell twiddling his thumbs in his room at Granny's, and despite having a hefty citation hand delivered, the annoying prick had simply gone to the make-shift town hall at the community center to pay his fine.

Hanging his head, David crossed his arms before turning around. "I know that," he grumbled. Glaring down the hall, he shook his head. "Things aren't going as I had hoped," he admitted.

"They seldom do for anybody," Emma agreed, drumming her fingers on her chair's arms. She glanced through the partial glass wall to look at Regina who was still typing away on her laptop. Any bone she might've tossed her father was quickly forgotten as frustration bubbled to the surface, but she held herself in check.

"I can't stand looking at him," he admitted, slipping his hands inside his jean pockets. His shoulders naturally straightened and fell back. Once again, he was the confident young king. "I'm not proud of everything I've done, but—."

Tossing both hands up, the sheriff made an abrupt halting gesture. "Whatever is about to come out of your mouth, I don't want to hear it," she quickly interrupted. When it looked like her father was about to continue speaking, she sharply ordered, "No, David." She took a slow, deep breath and calmly explained, "Spencer has been very tight-lipped about who wrongfully imprisoned him in the mines. So, as the Sheriff, if I learn who left him handcuffed with nothing but a bucket and a blanket, I'm going to toss their ass in jail." Her anger flared as she stood and pointed at the two, currently occupied jail cells. "And as you can see, we don't have any vacancies, right now."

David took a step forward, leaving only the old, wooden desk between him and his daughter. "Emma," he rasped. Of course, he had known better. The mere idea of looking at that man every day in the jail would've killed him. "I had—," he tried again.

"Nope," Emma interjected, shaking her head. Seeing his dejected expression, she pursed her lips as her anger flared. "This isn't the Enchanted Forest. We don't take justice into our own hands in this world, David," she intoned. If the Crows Guard could resist dolling out vigilante justice, why couldn't her own parents? A quick glance at Regina brought her frustrations with her father to the surface, yet again. "And yet, some people still go unpunished," she reminded him tersely.

His shoulders slumped again. This wasn't what he'd anticipated. "Yes, of course, you're right," he quietly relented.

Teeth worrying her bottom lip, she looked through the glass and across the bullpen to the man reading a book and effectively ignoring them. Snippets of an earlier conversation with Regina flittered in her mind, and if her assumption as to why her father was here was true, then, the brunette's guess had been right: Albert Spencer would rather submit to the animal folk than David Nolan. It was a win-win, and one, Regina suspected, that would be craftily wielded during negotiations between the lawyers, as the intern ADA was animal folk himself.

Taking a deep breath, David took several steps toward the office door. He stopped at the threshold and turned around, "We do miss you," he said softly. Waiting for his daughter's gaze to meet his, he prompted, "Maybe we could have dinner sometime soon?" His eyes drifted off to the side, stopping on the former mayor. "We should find some common ground."

"Maybe," Emma simply answered. "I'll run it by Regina and let you know." At her dad's quick nod and even quicker exit, she pondered the request for a long moment. Maybe things were finally looking up.

~SQ~

After losing nearly fifty dollars to Jason Sirtis and Diego Flores at the pool table in the den, Emma had called it quits and headed back upstairs, muttering how she'd been hustled. She stood in the foyer for a long moment, considering her options for the lazy Sunday afternoon. Stuffing her hands in her jeans' front pockets, she glanced toward the living room and considered possibly watching something. But, it was Sunday, and nothing would be on. Her gaze bounced up in the general direction of Henry's room, but she didn't want to deal with the boy's moodiness. That's when she heard the soft clink of glass from the kitchen. Slowly, she approached, calling, "Regina?"

"Yes, Emma?" the brunette answered out of reflex, focusing on the orange liquid bubbling in a beaker. With easy skill, she extracted a small portion of the liquid with a pipette.

Standing in the entranceway, the blonde questioned, "Are you going to be doing that all day?" She was bored, and between all her scheduled activities, she didn't know how to handle free time, anymore. Of course, in the beginning, when their range had been extremely limited, she and Regina had done things together. She'd grown to like it, and now, she missed it.

"More or less," came the offhanded answer. Was one day to herself and her own projects too much to ask?

Sighing, the sheriff pulled out a stool and sat, carefully avoiding the plethora of equipment and magical spell and potion components. "It's Sunday," she whined slightly, resting her chin in her left palm. "You know, the day of rest," she grumpily elaborated. It was fascinating to watch the brunette work, but her brain could only handle so much nerdy, magic mumbo-jumbo.

Looking up from her notes, the former mayor glared at the other woman over the rim of her reading glasses. "Your point?" she drawled, knowing full well the blonde was bored. Her eyes immediately returned to the simmering liquid, and she frowned. Nothing was working, and she was wasting ingredients she couldn't easily replenish.

Emma huffed in annoyance. Sitting up, she gestured at the contraption on the kitchen island. "You've been messing with your chemistry set for a week. If we're not at the station, I'm training with Anne, and if you're not outside with us, you're in here doing this," she ranted in a quick gush. A pouty frown spread across her face as she crossed her arms and slouched. "To top it off, I haven't had a decent meal in forever," she droned somewhat. Suddenly, her gaze brightened as she looked at the brunette and hastily suggested, "Let's go out."

"What?" Regina prompted, pausing in her examination of the latest result and looking at the blonde. Turning the burners down, she slowly removed her glasses and closed her notebook. Obviously, this wasn't going to be a quick kitchen drive-by for a snack or beverage.

"Oh, my God, I can't take this anymore," Emma exclaimed, dropping her head back theatrically. Her arms fell to her sides as she stared at the ceiling. "We go to work. We train. You try not to blow up the house," she listed, covering her face with her hands. "I'm bored," she muttered behind her palms. Dropping her hands onto her thighs, she glared at the former mayor. "Let me spell it out for you," she stated pointedly. "I need to do something different."

Chuckling softly as she was mildly amused by the dramatics, the brunette casually asked, "And what do you suggest?" She'd been aware of the blonde's rising restlessness; however, she was surprised it had taken the other woman so long to actually say something. Perhaps she should reward the sheriff for good behavior.

Eyes bright with excitement, the blonde perked up and practically wiggled in her seat, quickly requesting, "Let's go to the diner, or Dave's, or go get Chinese. I don't care, just something."

"Henry's grounded," the former mayor quietly countered, straightening her glasses and pen on top of the notebook.

"That's why he's not going," Emma easily retorted, hopping off her stool and pushing it under the island. "Come on, turn off your burners," she instructed with a broad smile. Winking, she added, "It's been a while since we stirred up trouble."

With a breathy chuckle, Regina began cleaning up her mess. She sighed dramatically for effect and with mock reluctance, agreed, "Very well." Quickly, she tidied her workspace, stowing the delicate instruments and ingredients. When she looked up, the sheriff, who was already wearing her red leather jacket, was holding her charcoal peacoat up and open by the collar. A soft smirk slid across her face as she turned and slipped her arms in the sleeves. She bit her bottom lip as Emma cleared her throat after running her hands over the yoke. "So, where are we going?" she asked, following the blonde to the Charger.

"La Tandoor!" the sheriff jovially exclaimed, bounding down the short steps and over to the passenger side of the car, opening the door. She smiled as the brunette slid into the cockpit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two Crows Guard, who had been hanging out in the open garage, climb on their bikes, adjusting their helmets and gloves. One spoke softly into his hand radio.

"Oh, it has been a while," the former mayor said with warm delight as the blonde slipped behind the steering wheel. It was no secret she loved Indian food, nor was it a secret that Henry intensely disliked it. So, as the car pulled out onto Mifflin Street, she didn't feel guilty for leaving her grounded son at home with her guard. However, she did frown when she realized that neither of them had told the boy where they were going, but again, that was another benefit to having her trusted guard stationed at the house.

"I thought you might like that," Emma beamed as she turned onto another side street, her eyes catching the two motorcycles trailing behind them. In a matter of minutes, the tiny motorcade had made its way across town as there was virtually no traffic on an early Sunday evening. However, as the Charger pulled into a prime parking spot in front of the restaurant, the sheriff spotted a few couples milling down the street, holding hands, and she contemplatively observed them.

Breaking the silence, Regina sheepishly remarked, "I forgot my purse."

"We're good," the blonde quipped, opening her door. "I've got my wallet," she explained, getting out of the car. As she closed the door, she noticed the two Crows Guard crossing the street.

"No," the brunette barked sharply as she exited the vehicle, her low tone easily reaching the two men in the middle of the road. "You will wait outside," she commanded, firmly closing the passenger door. She was thankful when they didn't raise a fuss and simply returned to their bikes.

Meeting the other woman on the sidewalk, the sheriff quietly said, "That wasn't very nice." Her gaze darted back to the bikers. They did try to be as unobtrusive as possible, but it was still strange. Her parents didn't have any steadfast guards following them around. Or was that another job of the dwarves?

"Who ever said I was nice?" the former mayor retorted, walking up to the restaurant's door. Sometimes, she just felt trapped, and it was no fault of the Queen's Guard. It was simply reminiscent of days better left forgotten.

Jogging to beat the other woman to the door, Emma flashed a bright smile as she pulled it open. "Yeah, yeah, you're not fooling me," she teased, following her friend inside.

From there, it was the typical rigmarole when dining out, and as usual, they were largely ignored by other patrons. Their conversation stayed on standard topics and was rather light for the most part, but it was always fascinating to the sheriff how the brunette relaxed in the subdued lighting when out in public, almost as if the darkness protected her.

Therefore, it was with great reluctance that the blonde broke their little bubble of normalcy. "So, I was thinking," she started, waiting for the inevitable quip that never came. A fond smile curled the corners of her mouth as she watched the other woman eat.

Regina hummed in response as she took another bite of her lamb rogan josh. The spicy food bestowed a strange sense of contentment upon her, reminding her of better times during her childhood. Before the lonely estate in King Leopold's kingdom and before Danial, she had a much different life growing up in her father's homeland amidst her royal cousins.

"Yeah," the sheriff said, unable to stop the creeping smile. "Archie got me thinking that we should maybe go visit our parents," she relayed, feeling bad for potentially ruining the brunette's evening. Of course, there was no way in hell she'd ever mention the fact her father had suggested dinner.

"Well," the former mayor drawled after swallowing her bite, "it's been a while since we tested our range." If the savior wanted to visit her parents, although she didn't understand why, she wasn't going to stop her. She valiantly tried to hold onto the blissful feeling elicited by her dinner.

The blonde's jaw dropped at the casual acceptance. Then, the actual words hit her. "Come on," she whined, stabbing her fork into her curry. "Don't leave me alone with them," she hissed before angrily scooping up a bite and shoveling it into her mouth.

"Why must I suffer?" the brunette demanded, using a piece of naan to sop up some of the stray sauce on her plate. The warm bread with the rich sauce kept her mood sedate.

"Solidarity!" was the expectant response.

Rolling her eyes, Regina scrunched her nose as she lightly countered, "I think I'll pass." She took another bite of saag paneer and allowed her eyes to drift closed in culinary bliss. It was rare to find food she enjoyed eating out in Storybrooke. Of course, since the memory portion of the Dark Curse broke, there had been a few pleasant surprises popping up in town, namely the Indian and Sicilian restaurants. If only someone sold a decent empanada, she'd be truly content.

"Please?" Emma pleaded, leaning forward. She maintained a hopeful look as she explained, "Archie said it was important to try and find some common ground." Seeing she wasn't getting anywhere with logic, she added in an irritated huff, "Besides, Mary Margaret's not going to stop nagging me until we do."

"Get a new cellphone number," the former mayor helpfully suggested. She was all too aware how the blonde would grumble and quietly curse her phone. Idly, she poked at her food, debating whether to continue eating or take it home. It was always so much better the next day. Maybe she'd indulge in some kheer.

Snorting, the sheriff looked down and pushed her food around her plate. "Not that I haven't considered it, but…," she started but trailed off.

"If you're wanting to do this for Henry, the best thing would be to keep him away from Miss Blanchard, considering recent events," the brunette offered with mild distaste, putting down her fork and wiping her mouth with her cloth napkin. She'd rather her son have absolutely no contact with his grandparents from either side, but that wouldn't be feasible forever. Frankly, she was surprised that they'd gotten away with it for so long. That was proof enough she'd struck a critical nerve with Snow White. She frowned at this realization. Obviously, Henry was taking a back seat as the Charmings were too preoccupied with their crumbling relationship with Emma, and Gold was too distracted by his son and Lacey. It should have made her happy, finally having their son all to themselves, but it didn't because her little boy was miserable.

"Okay, fine," the blonde relented, putting her own silverware down. She crossed her arms and flopped back in her chair, deciding to bite the bullet. "I think you should go see Cora," she freely admitted.

"No," the brunette's answer was immediate and broached no argument. What the hell was the sheriff thinking?

Rolling her eyes at the icy glare, Emma tilted her head. "One of us has to have some kind of normal relationship with our parents," she remarked in a flat tone. She couldn't help but believe that the sheer brilliant, red brightness of Cora's heart had to mean something.

"And you believe that to be me? You've met my mother," Regina retorted darkly. Her lips curled into a soft snarl. The notion was completely ludicrous. She hadn't missed the woman in 43 years, why would she start, now?

Leaning forward and pushing her plate out of the way, the sheriff rested her elbows on the table, re-crossing her arms. She adopted a sad expression as she tried to clarify her reasoning, "Yeah, but she didn't have her heart. Didn't she take it out before you were born? Wouldn't that skew her personality or something?" She rolled her lips and swallowed. She was stuck between not wanting to pressure her friend into something she wasn't ready for and not wanting her to miss an opportunity to reconnect with her mother. After all, didn't all kids want a meaningful relationship with their parents? Upon further contemplation, she realized that it hadn't turned out so well for Ava and Nicholas, and she began to second-guess herself.

The former mayor bristled at the prospect of approaching Cora, of exposing any type of weakness to the woman. It churned her stomach; yet, she was mildly intrigued by Emma's theory. Would a heart make that much of a difference? Looking away, she detested herself for quietly admitting, "Perhaps." After everything, she was still weak.

"Aren't you curious?" the sheriff questioned softly in a gentle tone. She was all too aware of the older sorceress's cruel potential and the possible brutalities she might have bestowed upon her daughter. So, she gave Regina a long minute before adding, "She's locked up, alone, in a cave. That's no way to live."

Eyes full of fire latched onto blonde's. "It's no less than what she deserves," the brunette snarled through gritted teeth, her tone low and dangerous. Curiosity over whether her mother was now a different person was one thing, but lamenting Cora's current predicament was beyond her at that moment.

Letting a slow, lazy smile spread across her face, Emma gazed at her friend with understanding. "Well, if nothing else, she's a captive audience, and you can yell at her," she easily suggested with a shrug. "Get some stuff off your chest. That'll definitely be therapeutic," she added with a hint of enthusiasm, smile widening.

"Are you planning on doing the same with your esteemed parents?" Regina pondered, feeling some of the tension seep out of her. More and more, the blonde's smiles had that effect on her.

"Eh," the sheriff replied, making a face. "I've yelled at them a lot, lately," she added in a deadpan tone. Dipping her head and looking through her eyelashes at the woman across from her, she flashed an impish smile. "So, I'm just going to see how things go." She wanted to reach over and touch the other woman, but her hands weren't on the table. So, after a quick inhale, she graciously bargained, "I'll let you pick who we see first."

Cocking an eyebrow, the former mayor pursed her lips in an amused half smile. Her voice was tight as she said in a low, gravelly tone, "I get to orchestrate my own torture. How refreshing." Taking a sip of her ice water, she maintained eye contact, and putting her glass down, she promised, "I won't forget this."

"What?" the blonde startled, sitting upright and blinking.

Tutting and shaking her head, the brunette idly caressed her water glass as she mockingly accused, "Bribing me with Indian food, you know it's a weakness."

"Hey, I use what I got," the blonde said with a toothy smile, all but admitting guilt. She just hoped none of this blew up in her face because Regina Mills knew how to hold a grudge.

~SQ~

End of Part 10