Sense of Security

Emma sighed as she examined her outfit in the mirror. She looked good in black, normally, but today the color seemed to hang on her in all the wrong ways. But, she supposed, the way she looked didn't really matter. This day was about paying their respects to Belle. She was to be buried today. Emma sighed again and shrugged into the mirror. This would simply have to do.

In an attempt to escape her own mind, Emma brought her thoughts back to Regina. The woman could probably make a burlap sack look good, and it used to frustrate the blonde to no end. How could every single outfit hug her perfectly and make her look regal and perfect and…everything? But now, Emma had come to be grateful for the sight. Seeing Regina taking care of herself, as well as being unharmed, was slowly taking over Emma's priorities.

Belle had died three days ago. And for three days, Regina's house went unwatched during the night. Emma hadn't slept the first night, and had in fact gotten up at five in the morning to get dressed and drive down to the house. Despite her reservations, it had looked untouched. But that didn't stop Emma from climbing out of her cruiser (which was a lot quieter than her bug) and snooping around the house. Everything looked in place and upon trying the door, she was satisfied to find it locked. But even then, that didn't stop her from waiting outside until seven, when she'd seen the queen's bedroom light on an hour before, and knocking on the door.

Regina had answered, looking cranky—understandable, Emma knew—but she looked fine besides. In a force of habit, Regina began to open the door wider to let her in, and Emma made to walk through it. They both stopped, however, before the task could be done, the sudden realization hitting them that this had become so normal. Regina didn't look as upset as Emma thought she would have at this situation. In fact, she looked apathetic towards it all, staring up at Emma and waiting for her to make the next move.

Emma wanted to come inside. She wanted to have coffee with Regina and talk about all of this. But that was selfish of her. Regina didn't look to be in the mood to entertain her, or anyone, at the moment. The rings around her eyes had returned, and her hair, while washed, still looked lifeless. Just how much death and heartache could someone take before it consumed them? However much it was, Regina looked close to the limit.

With a resigned sigh, Emma took a step back, and Regina allowed the door to fall back against her shoulder as she leaned against the doorframe. The blonde pursed her lips into a short smile and nodded at the queen.

"Just making sure you were alright," she said awkwardly, rising onto the toes of her boots and back down.

"Are you satisfied?" Regina asked simply.

Emma nodded, then looked past her into the foyer. It looked untouched. "Are you always up this early?"

"Yes."

It was simple. Everything was simple. Not even a hint of sarcasm or annoyance.

Emma clenched her fists to keep from barging into the house and confronting Regina about whatever the hell was going on with her. A part of Regina's eyes almost seemed to hint at wanting just that, but she couldn't be sure. So she sighed and gave a single nod.

"Okay, I'll be coming over every morning at seven. All you have to do is open the door."

That seemed to get a reaction out of her and Emma forced her smile back as she watched Regina lift a sculpted eyebrow.

"And what if I don't?" she challenged weakly, as if she were doing out of habit rather than enjoyment.

"Then I'll break the door down and find you."

"So violent, Sheriff."

The name cut Emma deeper than it should have, and she shoved her hands in her pockets, trying to see behind those brown eyes, but finding nothing. Regina was the most infuriating person she'd ever met. This wasn't exactly breaking news, but sometimes she just had to take a step back and reaffirm it. It helped to rationalize her thoughts. Helped her to keep focus on the task at hand, not the 'what-ifs' that she so dearly hated.

"I've been demoted back to 'Sheriff,' huh?" Emma asked, unable to keep the sadness from tinting her voice.

"So it would seem," Regina answered as stone-faced as ever.

Emma opened her mouth to retaliate, but decided she didn't have the desire to this morning. Regina hadn't been hurt, and that was the only reason she'd shown up this morning. Her job was done. She turned to go, feeling Regina's eyes on her as she left, and called over her shoulder.

"If that's the price to pay for keeping you safe. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

And Emma had so far kept her word. For the past three days, and including this morning, Emma had knocked on Regina's door precisely at seven after doing a walk around the house. And so far, Regina had answered the door, no worse for the wear, physically. Emotionally, Emma had no idea what was going on there. Never once had she invited herself in for coffee and never once did Regina offer. They'd reverted back so far so quickly. Emma felt a pain in her chest at the thought of going back to being arch rivals. Hell, even the thought of being acquaintances bothered her. They'd had so much before…she didn't want to lose it. And she wouldn't lose it.

Emma steeled herself in the mirror, deciding the black pant suit she'd chosen did indeed look quite good on her. After the funeral, she would go back to Regina's. She would barge down that door, make them both coffee, or drinks, whichever the situation called for, and they would talk about this. Regina needed it just as much as the blonde did, Emma was sure of it. At least, it was what she hoped. It would make this plan a little easier to swallow if that was the case.

There was a shuffling by her bedroom door, and Emma saw her son in the mirror, hanging against the door frame, eyes cast downward to his socked feet. He looked so grown up in his dark suit, almost filling out the padded shoulders on his own, and she smiled sadly.

"Hey kid," she offered.

He raised his head and met her eyes in the mirror, giving a weak smile before trudging over to her bed and sitting on the edge. Regina's words echoed in Emma's mind to make sure Henry knew he wasn't at fault for Belle's death. Emma had taken those words to heart. The same night of the tragedy she had sat down with him and her parents in the dining room, over hot chocolate, and talked about it. She thought that whatever Regina said to him, coupled with that, that he would start to feel less guilty. Seeing him now, and remembering how he had acted the past few days, she was sure he still wasn't okay.

Emma sat next to him and bumped him lightly with her shoulder. He allowed it but made no other reaction and she sighed, trying to meet his eyes. But they were still focused on the floor. She reached up and tried to smooth out his hair.

"What's going on, Henry?" she asked as she tried to pat down a cowlick.

He shrugged, sniffling.

"Same shit different day, huh?"

Henry's eyes widened at her language but eventually he nodded. "I just don't get it," he said softly.

"Don't get what?"

"Rumpel loved Belle. And Belle loved him. He should have been able to heal her."

Henry was speaking out of guilt. Emma knew that, and yet she heard something entirely different. Rumpel should have been able to heal Belle. She'd been so caught up in the accident that she didn't even realize that at the time. Her hands grew cold and she rubbed them together as she tried to pick up the pieces. Had Rumpel somehow lost his magic? She'd assumed that when he was without it before that he was simply too weak from the poison to perform any. Had that been a ruse? Did leaving Storybrooke cause it? What—

"Emma?" Henry asked, breaking the blonde from her thoughts.

Emma looked down at her son and smiled, pushing her suspicions to the back of her mind. Henry needed her now. Once she was sure he was going to pull through, she could think about other things. Regina would know how to deal with this. Hell, ten minutes after the accident and she had the kid cracking a smile. But Regina wasn't here, a fact that made Emma feel all too alone.

"You still feel guilty, don't you?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Henry, I can tell you it's not your fault until I'm blue in the face. And even if I mean it with all my heart, it won't make any difference if you don't believe it."

He nodded again and she couldn't be sure if he really understood or if he was just placating her. Nevertheless, she continued on. Taking him by his arm, Emma put a finger to her lips and led him to the top of the spiral stairs, where they peered down into the loft. Charming was in the kitchen, also in a suit, preparing tea. Snow sat on the couch, clad all in black and looking half dead as she stared blankly at the wall in front of her. It was a sight that made Emma's stomach turn and looking down at Henry, she could tell it made him uncomfortable too. Once she was sure he'd gotten a good eyeful, she led him back into her bedroom and shut the door.

"What do you think of your grandmother's behavior?" she asked as he resumed his position on her bed.

He looked up at her and frowned in confusion. She nodded and pointed to her bedroom door.

"Do you like the way Snow's been acting lately?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she's always sad, and it makes others sad."

"Why does it make you sad?"

"Because there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Emma smiled as the realization slowly dawned on his features. And she sat down next to him. "Exactly, kid. There's nothing we can do about it. I'm not saying you can't be sad and you can't miss her, but you can't change the past."

Henry shook his head, his internal struggle evident as he locked his feet at the ankles and played with his hands. He looked less grown up now and more the ten year old that he was and Emma smiled softly at him again.

"But you can say that because you didn't actually kill anyone."

"Hey," Emma said sharply, causing Henry to look up nervously at her. "You didn't kill anyone."

"I—

"Henry," she interrupted, surprised at the motherly tone in her voice. "You didn't force Belle…Lacey to save you. If you had, then it would be your fault. But she made her choice. And her choice was to save you. How do you think she would feel knowing that you spent the life she gave you feeling sorry for yourself?"

Henry's hazel eyes started to redden, and fill slowly with tears, and Emma pulled him to her, feeling him wrap his arms around her. Tears came to her own eyes and she blinked them back as she kissed the top of his head, rocking him back and forth. After a few minutes, his sobbing slowed, and he pulled away, hiccupping as his chest heaved every now and then.

"I still miss her," he said.

"Me too, kid. We probably always will. And that's okay."

Henry nodded, giving her a small, but sincere smile. Emma felt a great weight lift from her shoulders and she stood, pulling Henry off of the bed and clapping her arms over his shoulders. "We'll get through this. We always do."

Her son nodded again and she opened the door, allowing him to lead the way down the stairs.

0-0-0-0-0

Much like everything in Storybrooke, the funeral was unconventional. It was not held at a church, but instead, the library. The bookshelves had all been moved against the walls but even still there was very little room to accommodate all those who had come to pay their respects to Belle. Though she had died as Lacey, Rumpel had stated that he wanted to remember her as Belle, and everyone seemed to want the same.

Emma had found a spot near the front, and was able to lean against a bookcase as she fanned herself. People were pressed toe to toe and even with the air conditioning the room was stifling hot. This place wasn't meant to hold so many people and it was surely a fire hazard. But Emma thought it best to let it slide for now. Her eyes scanned the room, surprised that there were so many people she didn't know. The town was much bigger than it let on. When Emma had first learned of the curse, she didn't consider the vastness of it. It had transported an entire land. Snow White and Prince Charming, but also sheep farmers, peasants, milkmaids. And they were all here now, somehow every one of them knowing Belle in their own way.

Emma, regrettably, didn't know the woman as well as she probably should have. She'd seen her a few times and they'd even spoken, but she wouldn't call themselves more than acquaintances. She supposed she did have a sort of delusional view of the woman that came from the fairy tales. Belle was brave, bold, loving and compassionate in her mind. Whether that was true or not, Emma supposed she would never know. But if the sadness that hung over the crowd was any clue, her colorings of Belle may not have been far off.

The crowd hushed when the tapping of a cane was heard. Emma looked over to find Rumpel making his way to makeshift podium in the back of the library. The casket was behind him, simple but elegant and beautiful, and he seemed intent on not letting his eyes fall on it as he stood and faced the crown, bringing his cane in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, clearing his throat. A few more moments passed, and he finally found his voice.

"This was Belle's favorite place," he began, his eyes scanning over the piles and piles of books, avoiding the crowd. "She loved to read. She loved to lose herself in other people and other worlds. I used to wonder why she'd ever want to imagine being anyone else, because she was perfect just as she was." His voice cracked a bit and he licked his lips. The heat of the library was getting to him. He was feeling lightheaded, and the bright lights of the library did nothing to ease that. Taking a deep breath, he put more weight on his cane and continued.

"But, as I grew to know her, to love her, I realized that she wasn't becoming those people she read about. She was finding herself through them. All of these characters…these, fairy tales—

There was a slight chuckle from the audience at that, and he felt himself smiling as well.

"They were a way for her to find out who she truly was. What would she do in this situation, or that, and how did that differ from the protagonist. It seemed exhausting to think about. But in the end, because of her reading, she emerged a beautiful, strong woman, who could see the good in any beast."

Tears escaped Rumpel's eyes, and he let them fall, looking into the crowd for the first time and letting them see him at his weakest, his most vulnerable. "She always said, that I was the greatest adventure she would ever have. I…I never thought I was good enough for her. But now that she's gone, I've realized that it wasn't about being good enough. I loved her. I loved her with everything that I am. And that was enough for her. That was all that mattered. And I'll never get the chance to prove it to her now."

He looked down then. He hadn't meant to end it on a sour note. This was about Belle's life, not his shortcomings. But it was too late to take it back now. And with that, he lifted his head and gave a weary smile to the crowd, hobbling off and allowing the next person to take his place. Emma watched him as he sat next to Belle's casket, placing a hand on it as tenderly as if it was her own cheek. The sight made her look away, and she forced herself to focus on Ruby, who was now standing in front of the crowd.

By the time everyone who wanted to had spoken, two hours had passed. Emma was certain she was about to pass out from heat stroke and judging by the reddened and sweating faces of the crowd, she wasn't alone in that regard. Rumpel stood, and six men—including Charming—made their way over to the casket, lifting it upon their shoulders. The crowd filed out quickly, eager to get out into the cool afternoon wind, and parted to allow the casket to lead the way to the cemetery. Being at the front before, Emma was now at the back and she breathed a sigh of relief as the wind chilled her sweat.

A hand touched her arm and Emma looked over to find Ruby. She was dressed all in black, but still had her fiery red lipstick on. Her mascara was a little smudged and her cheeks were red, but whether from the heat or the crying Emma couldn't be sure. She smiled at the brunette and Ruby returned it, however bittersweet it was.

"Emma, I just wanted to thank you for the time off the past few days. I certainly needed it."

"Oh, absolutely, Ruby," Emma answered, before she felt guilt enter the pit of her stomach. "Actually, it was Regina who brought it to my attention."

Ruby raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised, and tugged her jacket tighter around her. "Is she here then? I suppose I need to thank her as well."

Emma could tell by her tone of voice that Ruby had no intention of thanking Regina, but she respected the politeness of the request and answered her anyway. "No, I don't think she came today."

"Hmm," the brunette responded simply. "She must be the only one. The whole damn town is here."

Emma turned to nod, but stopped as she felt a cold dread creep up her spine. Regina was alone, and the entire town was participating in an alibi. Emma cursed under her breath and Ruby touched her shoulder again.

"Emma? You okay?"

Emma's heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she hardly heard the question. But she knew she had Ruby's attention so she pulled her closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Don't draw attention to yourself, but I need you to scan the crowd for anyone who's not here. Come to the station after the funeral."

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" Ruby asked, lifting her head and already beginning to search the crowd a few feet ahead of them.

"We'll see at the station. Just do what I say and remember, be subtle."

Ruby nodded and Emma wasted no time in racing to her cruiser and speeding down the street.

She couldn't see the house from the street. Those stupid wall shrubs were in the way. Emma cursed again as she pulled into the driveway, nearly hitting Regina's Benz in the process. Not that hitting it would have caused any more damage to it. The front windshield had been busted through, along with all of the lights and mirrors. Emma looked quickly to the front door and saw that it was ajar.

Emma's instincts told her to race out of the car and into the house. But her training as a bounty hunter and stand-in police officer reminded her to keep her cool, and she reached for the gun in her glove box, checking her rounds and flipping the safety off. She had a full clip. Taking a deep breath, Emma exited the car silently and crept up to the front door.

There was a scuffed boot mark next to the latch, and wood splinters littered the floor. Using the toe of her shoe, she pushed the door open all the way and peered inside. Everything was silent. But the house was trashed. Almost every railing on the banister was broken, and it looked like someone had taken a bat to the kitchen and a chainsaw to the living room. The word 'EVIL' had been spray painted into the foyer hallway. Rage boiled inside of Emma and she stepped carefully inside, checking the living room and kitchen and finding them empty as well.

Fresh sweat was beading against her brow and she watched her footing as she crept down the hall towards the study, careful not to step on anything that could make a sound. The door to the study was open, and while it too was trashed, Regina was not in it. For a moment, Emma panicked, wondering if Regina was still in the house, or if they had taken her. She forced that thought to the back of her mind, forced herself to remain focused, as she slowly crept up the stairs.

The pictures were all knocked off of the walls, glass littering the floor, and she swept them to the side. Much to her surprise, Henry's room was untouched. Regina had mentioned that her attackers had no interest in him, but to show that much decency while doing…this, made her stomach turn. She paid no mind to the other guest bedroom and instead made her way to the master bedroom, where again the door was ajar. However, unlike the study, this one had been kicked in. Regina had run to her bedroom to hide, had even locked the door, and they kicked it in. She must have been so afraid. Emma retched at the thought and stepped inside the room. Everything was shattered here, and other than to make sure Regina wasn't in it, Emma couldn't look at the bed. She didn't want to let her thoughts travel that far. Not if she wanted to get through this. There was a shuffling to her left and Emma turned and pointed the gun.

Regina was leaning up against the wall, next to her bed. Emma first noticed that her clothes, while ripped, were still intact and she exhaled the breath she'd been holding, feeling her chest heave as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.

"Regina," she hissed as she neared the bathroom. "Are they still here?"

There were a few beats of silence, but finally she heard Regina's broken voice croak that they were gone. Emma put the safety on the gun and stuck it in the waistband of her pants. Then, finally allowing her emotions to take over, she ran over to the queen and fell in front of her. She wanted to look away at what she saw, but she couldn't. So instead, she stared and allowed the rage and sadness to consume her, uncaring as the tears poured from her eyes.

The entirety of Regina's face was swollen, bruising. Impressions of a hand were defined around her neck and blood trickled from all three splits on her bottom lip. Her hands were swollen too, scratched from whatever fight she had put up. Emma didn't want to imagine what the rest of her body looked like.

"Oh my god…Regina," was all Emma could say, her voice cracking as her hand hovered between them, torn between touching or not.

"A god? Hardly," Regina said weakly, opening her eyes as much as she could to focus on the blonde. "You look terrible, Sheriff."

"That's not funny," Emma bit back, clenching her fist and bringing it to press painfully to her forehead. "Who did this to you?"

"Someone who's clearly not a fan of my work."

"Goddammit, Regina, this isn't funny! You're hurt!"

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Regina said, the sarcasm leaving her voice.

"Did you see who did this to you?"

"No, they were wearing masks. They didn't speak."

Emma turned and punched the wall in her anger, stopping when she saw Regina flinch at her motion. Taking a deep breath, Emma shook her head, tentatively placing a hand on Regina's knee.

"I never should have left you alone," she murmured, listening as the queen scoffed.

"I can take care of myself," she retorted, with that same regal air of confidence.

"Then why didn't you?" Emma shouted, watching as the queen jumped again at the sound but otherwise seemed unperturbed. "Why didn't you stop them? Why didn't you call me? Why didn't…" she drifted, closing her eyes to try and control her crying.

Fingers ghosted across her cheek, wiping her tears. But by the time Emma opened her eyes, they were gone, and Regina was staring out the window. "I made a promise to Henry."

"That's bullshit. You know he wouldn't want this. And don't you dare presume to make him feel guilty about this too."

That seemed to strike a nerve with the queen, who lowered her head to stare at the floor. "Then perhaps…I simply didn't want to stop them."

Emma's head inclined to the side as she regarded the brunette. Her chest was aching at what she was hearing. She wanted to throw something, to kill someone, and throw herself at Regina's feet. "What are you talking about?" she whispered.

Regina's eyes met her then, and the defiance in them almost caused Emma to retreat.

"Miss Swan, it's certainly indicative of the Savior to assume everyone is good and kind. But sometimes that's just not true."

"Regina, you're—

"The Evil Queen," she interrupted, hissing as she straightened as best as she could. "I am the Evil Queen. I have killed more people than you will ever know and ruined the lives of countless others. Don't tell me I don't deserve this."

"You don't."

Regina growled in frustration then and sent a limp kick towards Emma. "You know nothing. Just as stupid and naïve as your parents."

"Then enlighten me," Emma implored. Seeing Regina losing her cool caused her to regain some of her own and she placed her hand back on the queen's knee, giving it a squeeze. "What's going on, Regina?"

Regina took a deep breath and let her head fall to the side, closing her eyes. She looked dead, and Emma had to remind herself that she wasn't. That, for now, she was safe. A strangely comfortable silence passed between them before the queen finally spoke, her voice softer than Emma had ever heard.

"I saw Belle," was she said.

Emma frowned and leaned a little closer. "You saw her?"

"On the ground…after the wreck. I saw her there. And I left her there."

She looked up to meet Emma's eyes again, her mouth clenching to keep her tears at bay.

"I knew she was hurt, and I understood that Henry was upright, but I ran to him anyway. I'm just as selfish with magic as I am without."

"Regina," Emma breathed, shaking her head. "No one blames you for running to your son. I did the same thing."

The queen's eyes were looking past Emma, through her, lost in her own thoughts. Her head was pounding, and black spots were swimming in and out of her eyes. Her face felt tingly, as if it was numb, and she was grateful for that.

"My mother is dead because of my magic, and Belle is dead because I refused to use it. Damned if I do and damned if I don't. Might as well make a few people happy by letting them get their revenge on me."

"That's crazy!" Emma shouted, finally breaking the queen from her ramblings. Emma stood then, pacing in front of the queen as she ran her hands through her hair. "Regina…this is suicide," she said finally, her mouth falling open as the words fell from it. She looked down at Regina then, and saw just how broken the woman was. Was this what it looked like when you had nothing else to live for? Emma had been low before, but she'd never even thought about ending it.

"I'm aware of that, Sheriff."

"And if these people were to come back, you would allow them to do this to you again?"

"Yes."

"You would allow them to kill you?"

Regina paused for only a moment, but gave a resolute nod. "If it came to that."

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not going to let you…kill yourself," Emma said in disbelief.

"Well, it's not really your choice to make, is it?"

"Oh yes it damn well is."

Regina lifted her head and watched as Emma knelt down and pulled the brunette to her feet, taking her arms and holding them behind her back. "Regina Mills, you are under arrest," she said as she helped the queen out into the hallway.

That seemed to light a fire beneath the queen and she stopped, trying to pull her arms from Emma's grasp. When that proved futile, she summoned her best glare at the sheriff and began to speak.

"You have got to me kidding—

"You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it."