Notes: Sorry this chapter has taken a little longer than usual. The last week at work has been super hectic and crazy, so I haven't had much time to write and kept falling asleep on my computer when I did. But now I'm on vacation, so the next one should be finished much more quickly.
Dr. Hopper (bless him) apparently gives Locksley a favorable report on Regina's progress, because later that evening, she gets a call from him, telling her that she can come back to work. The next morning, if she's up for it. Even as she's overjoyed at the show of confidence, she can feel her heart pounding and her vision begins to blur because she has no idea how any part of their conversation gave Archie the idea that she's ready, because she's not.
She sits down with a thud on the couch, and Emma instantly turns away from game she and Henry are playing, drops her controller, and starts lightly stroking Regina's upper arm.
Robin's still talking, though. "It would be...only part time," he continues. "A few days a week, maybe three to four hours max. You'd basically be stuck at a desk helping with paperwork. No gun, no badge – it's shit, I know, but assuming it goes well..."
Regina sucks in a deep breath, closes her eyes, and counts to ten. "So, it's just like the first time, then?" she asks, shakily exhaling.
"Yes...no," Robin mumbles. She can almost imagine him awkwardly staring at his hands. "I mean, same basic idea, hopefully a more accelerated timeline. I assume there'll be one, two weeks of this at most, and then you'll be back in action."
She takes another breath and doesn't reply.
"You're offended?" he guesses.
"I don't know."
"Do you want to take some time and call me back later?"
"Robin, I..." One breath, then another. "I'll call you back," she finally grits out. Then she hangs up and buries her face in her hands.
Emma gives Henry a sniff and grimaces. "Hey, kid, you smell," she says lightly. "Why don't you go take a shower?"
"Your 'creative' tactics for getting me out of the room for adult conversations are getting a little old," he mutters.
"It's not a tactic; you really do smell bad...and I really do need you out of the room for a few minutes."
"Fine," Henry huffs, stalking to the bathroom.
As soon as he leaves, Emma immediately moves to Regina's other side to wrap her good arm over her shoulders. "Hey, what happened? Are you okay?" she whispers.
"I don't know," Regina admits, hands trembling. "I...I don't...this-"
"It's okay if you don't know. Just...take some deep breaths, okay." Nodding, Regina obeys, breathing slowly in and out as Emma counts softly in her ear and rubs her back to the same rhythm. "Good job, you've got this," the younger woman coaxes.
She shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be piling all of this on Emma. "Emma, I-" she desperately tries to apologize, but the words won't come out.
"Shh, it's okay. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
Hating herself more and more every second, Regina lets Emma soothe her until her heart and lungs have relaxed enough to let her speak. "Emma, I'm sorry," she whispers.
Emma shrugs her good shoulder and says, "Nah, we're good."
"I shouldn't...I shouldn't have ruined your evening like that."
"My evening is far from ruined, and I don't think it's something you can really control, anyway. Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"Locksley told me I could go back to the station, starting tomorrow," Regina mumbles, staring at her hands.
"Okay," Emma says slowly. "That's...that's good, right? That's the goal. That means Hopper thinks you're okay, doesn't it?"
"Yes...maybe?"
"Are you not ready?" Emma asks. Regina bites her lower lip and shakes her head slightly before leaning it against Emma's shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut. "If you're not ready, then don't go," she suggests immediately. "Call Locksley and tell him. He knows last weekend took a lot out of you; he'll understand."
"I know. It's just...it's not Locksley I'm worried about. The higher-ups...they tried to get me off the force before. They'll...if I say I'm not ready now, they'll start talking about long-term leave, early retirement..."
Emma lets out an angry puff of air. "They suck. They don't know what they're talking about – you're the best thing BPD has to offer."
"Be that as it may," Regina says with a light chuckle, "they're the ones in power. If I want to continue my career, I have to go back when they say so."
"I'm sorry," Emma murmurs.
"It's not...I won't be going to crime scenes, chasing down suspects, any of that," Regina quickly clarifies. "It'll be part-time at first, just sitting in the squad room, doing everyone else's paperwork. I have to demonstrate my emotional stability where they can see me."
"Ugh." Emma wrinkles her nose in sympathy. "I bet you're not happy about that, huh?"
"It is rather demeaning, but-"
"I mean, it's necessary, though, isn't it? That'll probably be me in a few weeks, too, once the neurologist clears me. And the idiots need someone to help with their paperwork – the whole place is probably in chaos without you."
"I wish I could just wait to go back when you do," Regina admits, against her better judgment. "That would make all of this a lot easier."
"Hey, it's a few hours, right? Henry and I will be fine on our own. Geez, you're like a new mom leaving her kid alone with a babysitter for the first time," she jokes, before realizing that was probably exactly the wrong thing to say and murmuring, "I'm sorry."
Regina ignores the humor and sighs deeply. It's not Emma and Henry she's worried about; it's not her ability to do her job, even the potentially triggering parts of it. It's walking back into the squad room knowing that the last time any of the other detectives saw her, she was sobbing on the floor and pointing her gun at Locksley's head. How could they trust her after that? How could they respect her? No one is going to want to work with her, and she's going to have to claw her way back up just like the first time.
It's taken her entire career to cultivate her reputation. Time and time again, she's had to prove herself capable, to jump over hurdles no one else has ever been subjected to. She's been dubbed too small to chase down suspects, emotionally unstable due to being female, compromised by victimhood, by PTSD...if she's too friendly with the male detectives, she's flirting; if she's not friendly enough, she's evil. She has to do twice as much as everyone else to get the same acknowledgement, and she's sick of it.
Robin still thinks he has to take care of her, never mind that she should be his boss. She has to inspire fear in her squad mates if she wants even an ounce of their respect, and even then they call her a bitch (or Evil Queen) behind her back. It wasn't until she started working with Emma, another woman, that she realized what she was missing: someone who gives her the respect she deserves without questioning it. Someone who understands without having to be told that ovaries don't render a person incompetent. Someone who just fucking gets it.
The idea of going back to work without Emma, now that she's realized how things could be...it hurts. Feeling accepted, feeling validated, not having to hide her emotions all the time – it's so new and wonderful and now that she's had a taste of it, she doesn't want to give it up. She doesn't want to go back and face that never-ending ladder and the glass ceiling she keeps banging her head on. She's so tired, and her head hurts.
But then she looks at Emma and she thinks about how much easier it is for her, how much easier it is for all of young women just starting out. No matter how much she hates being called a hero, she knows that her fight has helped make Emma's career possible, and she'd never want to change that. If her going back to work tomorrow will help Emma, then she'll do it.
Because this amazing, brave woman, who has unknowingly given Regina such an incredible gift, has gone through enough struggles already, and if there's anything Regina can do to make her life easier, she will. For Emma, she'll keep climbing the ladder no matter how many times she falls down, and she'll keep banging her head until either the ceiling or her skull shatters.
"I don't know what's come over me," she says, clearing her throat and attempting to recompose. "This job has always been my life; the few times I've had to go on leave before, I've always been determined to get back to it as soon as I could. I don't know what's changed."
"Maybe don't overanalyze it," Emma says lightly. "You feel the way you feel, and that's okay. Maybe tomorrow morning, you'll feel differently. And if you don't, that's fine, too. Look, I don't want to tell you not to worry about your career, since apparently you have to because BPD headquarters is full of sexist assholes, but if you're not feeling it tomorrow...take care of yourself first. Don't go, or come home if it's too hard. We'll be here with hugs, and I know Locksley will fight for you to keep your job."
"Emma..." Regina says softly, tears springing to her eyes. This isn't fair, because as hard as she tries to fight it, she's falling harder and faster for Emma Swan every second. And every time she thinks she's ruined it, that she's succeeded in driving the other woman away, it turns into something like this, something that brings them closer together and convinces Regina even further that her heart, every single damaged inch of it, belongs irrevocably to Emma.
It's completely terrifying and completely not at the same time.
Because she's falling, but Emma is catching her. Emma's hand is warm and protective on her back, and Emma's shoulder is soft but secure under her head, and it's strange and new and safe and familiar all at once.
But she can't have this. She may belong to Emma, but Emma does not belong to her. Friendship and acceptance aren't the same as love.
She has to stop doing this. She can't keep giving her heart away when she knows that some way or another, it's just going to end up crushed.
But it's hard to pull herself away from something that's drawing her in so strongly. Something that feels so beautiful and comfortable and perfect.
The water in the bathroom turns off, and Henry calls, "Are you two finished? Can I come out now?"
"You good?" Emma asks under her breath. Regina nods reluctantly and lifts her head from Emma's shoulder (though the hand running up and down Regina's back mercifully doesn't stop), and Emma calls out, "We're good, kid!"
Henry pokes his head out of the bathroom and asks, "Can we go buy ice cream?"
"For dinner?" both women ask at the same time, and he cracks up.
"Maybe as a pre-dinner snack?" he wheedles.
Emma shrugs. "I see nothing wrong with that." She turns to Regina and adds, "We always used to get good luck ice cream before the first day of school, this can be your good luck ice cream for your first day back at work."
"You're going back to work?" Henry asks, face falling. "Tomorrow?"
"It's just for a few hours," Emma tells him, "and then she'll be back to play with you and yell at me before you know it."
"Okay," he says agreeably. "Can we get ice cream now? Are you okay to walk a block?"
"Yeah, I'll be great."
"Emma!" Regina scolds.
"It's literally a hundred yards away, Regina. I'm allowed to resume moderate activities."
"Okay, but if you need to take a break, if your head starts to hurt-"
"You'll be the first to know."
Henry smirks.
He holds Emma's hand on one side and Regina's on the other as they walk (slowly, because Regina won't allow her partner even a second of overexertion) to the ice cream stand, and they sit close together in the cool night air, eating and intermittently talking about Regina going to work, their plans to visit Storybrooke on Friday, Henry's camp that starts in two weeks, and anything and everything else under the sun.
When Henry isn't looking, Regina lets her head rest on Emma's shoulder again, and when the Emma affectionately nuzzles her forehead, she wonders what's happening and whether she's afraid of it.
And she decides that she's not.
In the end, she decides she's not afraid of going to work either.
There are a few moments of uncertainty. The first comes seconds after her alarm goes off, when Emma's hand tightens around hers and she feels absolutely no urge to extract it. She's been sleeping in Emma's bed every night since the first time, always as far away from the blonde as possible (and she wakes herself up every couple of hours to ensure that she hasn't accidentally drifted closer), but their hands somehow always end up intertwined, and she can never quite force herself to separate them. Emma doesn't seem to mind, and Regina doesn't remember the last time she slept so well. She's not sure if it's because of the comfort of the bed or Emma's closeness, but she finally understands the meaning of the term "well-rested."
The second moment comes about two hours later, after she's run and showered, when Henry decides to be a gentleman and walk her to her car. He's just finished excitedly informing her about his plan to write the second installment of their book, in which the Queen and Prince nurse their injured swan back to health, and he pulls her close and tells her to have a good day, and all she wants in that moment is to stay there, with his arms around her, and listen to his stories for a while before letting him lead her back up to the apartment to read or cook or play video games together and take turns forcing Emma to sit back down when she inevitably tries to clean the house or go grocery shopping or otherwise exert herself in ways she's not supposed to.
But she forces herself to get in the car and wave goodbye and drive away from the first place she's truly felt safe in almost eleven years.
The third involves her nearly passing out in the parking garage.
Her vision is hazy, and she's leaning against the side of her car, struggling to breathe, her fingers clenched tightly around the door handle, when she hears footsteps approaching from behind her. In, out, she tries to coach herself. She needs to have the presence of mind to face whomever this is.
Jaw clenched, she turns to glare at the intruder, to fight if she needs to.
It's ADA Blanchard.
Of course that insufferable woman wouldn't have the good sense to just keep walking.
"Regina, hi, long time no see," she says shyly and stares for a moment, arm raised in greeting, before finally realizing that the detective is probably shaking and clinging to her car for fun. "Are...are you okay? Do you need anything?" she asks.
"Yes," Regina mutters through gritted teeth. "I need you to leave."
"I – um, okay," the ADA replies, uncertainty oozing out of her. "Should I...I don't know, should I get someone? Locksley?"
"No," Regina practically growls. "I do not require anyone's assistance. I was just about to walk into the building before you disrupted me."
Squeezing her eyes shut, she counts to five before prying her fingers off the door handle. She immediately stuffs her hands in the pockets of her blazer and digs her fingernails forcefully into the skin of her stomach. It hurts like hell, even through the stiff fabric of her shirt, as her nails attack decade-old scar tissue that somehow still manages to be sensitive (psychosomatic, she's been told), but the pain is good. The pain there is familiar and calming in an odd way, and she's able to force a smile at ADA Blanchard and tell her, "Well, hurry up. I have things to accomplish today, and I'm sure you do, too."
Mary Margaret nods and shrugs her shoulders.
"That gesture is undignified for a lawyer," Regina scolds.
"Whatever," the ADA mutters under her breath.
They stride into the building in silence, neither acknowledging the other until Regina freezes again right in front of the squad room.
The idea that she might be lucky enough that Blanchard wouldn't notice turns out to be wishful thinking at its finest.
"I'll distract them," the ADA offers sympathetically, her face etched with pity in a way that would normally make Regina irate. Now, though, she barely notices because she's too busy thinking that if Mary Margaret knows there's something for them to be distracted from, when she wasn't even present at the hospital, then it must be something they've been gossiping about, either at work or outside of it, and that upsets her even more.
Her stomach lurches, and she worries for a moment that her knees might give out, but then ADA Blanchard is walking into the squad room and greeting everyone, and Nolan's drooling over her and everyone else is mocking him, and Regina quickly slips behind her desk, sinking heavily into the back of her chair before she's noticed.
Alternatively, they may have noticed her but had the decency to pretend that they didn't. At this point, either one is acceptable.
Locksley comes out a minute later and sets her up with enough filing to last well into the evening, though he informs her that she's only allowed to stay for three hours, no exceptions. She grumbles for a moment, just for show, before getting down to business. It's about as boring as watching paint dry, but at least it's methodical and soothing. About five minutes into it, she's almost forgotten that she's missing her gun and badge and doing everyone else's busywork because she's not emotionally fit for her real job. That is, until she notices Blanchard standing over her shoulder, watching her.
Regina scowls.
"May I help you, Miss Blanchard?" she grits out.
The ADA shifts awkwardly and mumbles, "Sorry, I was just wondering how Emma was doing. She – well, none of us have really heard from her since she's gotten out of the hospital."
Regina softens a little. Concern for Emma is completely understandable and, as far as Mary Margaret goes, the most tolerable thing she could have come up with.
"She's been slightly out of it," Regina explains. "The concussion and everything. But she's feeling much better now."
"That's wonderful. Do...do you think she'd like it if I visited her?"
At that, Regina's moment of good humor is instantly forgotten. Emma would, in fact, probably enjoy a visit from Mary Margaret. She might like to see Nolan, Jones, and maybe even Humbert, too (Though she shares Regina's opinion about Booth). She's been getting much more social and upbeat as her brain continues to heal, and she's spent the last week in fairly limited company. It's Regina who has no desire to see any of those people, but it's not her place to dictate who can and can't come into Emma's home.
She's just a guest, really. A guest who's currently doing all the housework, but a guest nonetheless. So she clenches her jaw and mutters, "She has a phone, you know. Why don't you call her and ask?"
Mary Margaret doesn't appear to notice the shift in tone – it's still far more pleasant than the one Regina usually uses with her. She flashes the detective a friendly smile, grabs her briefcase, and leaves to work on whatever case she was here to collect information for – Regina is slightly horrified to realize she has no idea what's been going on at the station for the last week.
Not horrified enough to actually ask anyone about it, though.
As soon as Mary Margaret is safely out of the room, Regina breathes a sigh of relief and returns to her work. Filing is strangely mind-numbing – so numbing, in fact, that she completely loses track of time until she hears someone clearing their throat beside her.
She looks up with a start and sees Locksley standing there, tapping his watch. A glance down at her own wrist confirms that she forgot to wear one this morning – proof that she's not really back to normal yet – but the light filtering through the window has changed, and her pile of paperwork is about half the size it was when she started, so it's easy enough to deduce that a few hours have passed.
"Is this you kicking me out?" she asks.
"Not kicking, just letting you know that you've been here for three hours, which was our previously agreed-upon limit. How are you feeling?"
Regina considers for a moment, and then replies in complete honesty, "I'm alright."
"Good. I'd...I'd offer to let you stay for a few more hours if you're up for it, but-"
"No need," Regina says quickly. "I'll leave without a fuss."
"Really?" Robin looks shocked for a second before smiling broadly. "Then I'd say your first day back was a success on all counts. Should we start talking about your next day back now, or would you prefer to wait?"
"I..." Regina's voice trails off, and she stares at her feet.
There's a part of her, a part that came one hundred percent from Cora and was somehow immune to her father's "coddling," that's telling her she needs to go back tomorrow, that the more she delays, the more she's losing her place on the squad and the respect she's worked so long and hard to gain.
But there's another part of her that's reminding her she's supposed to drive Emma to her neurologist appointment tomorrow morning, and then she has an extra appointment with Hopper that she made to discuss this very issue, and after that, Henry wants to go on a picnic and people-watch on the Common. And that part of her brain is telling her that those plans are so much more important than keeping the job and reputation she's built her entire identity around.
"I think two days in a row might be too much, too soon," Robin continues, almost as if he's reading her mind. "How about you take tomorrow off and come back in on Thursday? We can assess the situation further then, but we'll probably plan for you to take a three-day weekend. Is that okay?"
She wants to hug him, but there are other people in the room, so she settles with a quick nod and a genuine smile. "I'll see you Thursday, then," she says before quickly exiting the room.
Reviewing the day's events on her drive home (to Emma's – not her home, she has to keep reminding herself), she thinks it might be a stretch to say that her first day back was "successful on all counts." But then she opens the door of the apartment and Emma and Henry are there, smiling, and there's a giant pizza on the table, and Henry says, "Mom said she forgot the difference between twenty and twelve-inch crust because of her concussion, but she's really just a pig," and they all laugh and stuff their faces and she realizes that maybe it's not a stretch at all.
Maybe she just needs to do what Archie's always saying and re-examine her definition of success.
"So?" Dr. Hopper asks expectantly when Regina walks in on Wednesday morning. "How was the first day back?"
She has to chuckle because he sounds exactly like her father asking about school when she was little.
"It was alright," she answers. "Better than I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I just...I don't know," Regina sighs. "After what happened in the hospital, I was worried my squad mates might have a negative reaction, or pry into what happened. But they ignored me, for the most part."
Archie furrows his brow. "And that's acceptable to you?"
"For now, it is," Regina declares. "It's easier than the alternative. I just want to get through the next few weeks with as little struggle as possible, until...until Emma comes back."
"And then what happens?"
"Then...I don't know." Regina stares at her lap and frowns. "Then things can get back to normal?"
"You don't feel normal at work without her?" Archie questions.
Regina buries her face in her hands and wonders why she suddenly feels like she's on the wrong side of an interrogation table.
"I..."
"Everything you tell me is confidential," Archie reminds her. "And I won't judge."
"I...I'm starting to reconsider...certain things about my life," Regina finally admits.
Dr. Hopper immediately nods in understanding. "About the job?"
"I didn't miss it," she whispers. "I was gone for a week – over a week – and I didn't want to go back even once. And then, when Robin called and said I could, I had a panic attack."
He immediately reaches for her hand. "Regina, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"
"And then I had another, in the parking garage on Tuesday morning. In front of ADA Blanchard, of all people. She laughs darkly. "This job used to be the one constant in my life, and now...now I just don't know."
"Now you have another constant?" Archie suggests.
"The best part of my day was coming home to Emma and Henry," explains Regina. "It was the only thing that made leaving feel worth it."
"Regina, I'm sorry," Archie says. "I feel like this is my fault. When I told Robin I could clear you for desk duty, I meant-"
"No, it's okay," Regina interrupts. "Getting it over with sooner was better anyway. It gave me less time to dread it, and it gave the brass less time to think up new hurdles for me to jump over."
"Yes, but it sounds as though you felt forced, which wasn't my intention. I just wanted to leave the door open for you to go back when you chose."
Regina shakes her head. Archie's a good therapist, and an incredibly sweet person, but he has no idea how BPD politics work.
"It's fine," she reassures him. "I didn't go back because I felt forced. I did it for Emma."
"For Emma?"
Again, what is it with her mouth saying these things she meant to keep quiet? "Right," she mutters. "For Emma...Emma and the other female cops whose futures unfortunately seem to depend on my being labeled a 'hero.'"
Archie sighs. "That is unfortunate. But I think you need to put your own well-being first. Even heroes need personal time."
Regina stares at her hands and shakes her head again. "I still hate that word," she grumbles. "I'm not a hero just because I botched a U.C. and a psychopath tried to kill me."
"No, you're not," Hopper agrees. "You're a hero because after he destroyed everything you cared about, you got back up and rebuilt your life and your career. You're a hero because you found a reason to go on and you didn't let him break you."
"Sometimes that rebuilt life feels like it's standing on a very flimsy foundation," Regina says wryly, her fingers searching out the ring around her neck, something to ground them. She doesn't want to argue with Archie right now, but sometimes she feels pretty damn broken.
"But you said you felt stronger with Emma," Archie points out.
"I do. I...I do."
"Have you given any more thought to that?" he asks. "Your relationship with Emma?"
"You mean in the two days since we've last spoken?"
"It's just that I remember you saying that your working relationship was one of the things standing in your way, and now it seems like you're questioning your love of the job, and-"
"No!" Regina quickly exclaims. "I still love the job. I'm not – having a few bad days doesn't mean I'm ready to retire."
"Of course not. I didn't mean to imply that. You've almost put in your twenty, though, having you?"
"In six months, technically. Add another six months if they decide not to count the time I was on medical leave."
"They can't do that."
"You don't get to tell them what they can and can't do," she says with a humorous laugh. "Anyway, it hardly matters. I'm not retiring within the next year, anyway."
"You haven't thought about it?"
Regina rolls her eyes. Of course she's thought about it. She's thought about how she'd have nothing to do and no one to keep her company as her unoccupied mind grows more and more anxious and her body starts to gradually waste away. If she could, she'd never retire.
It would be different, of course, if she had a family. Everything would be different.
"This job is my life," she says stiffly. "You know that."
"But why?" Archie presses. "Besides the fact that you don't feel like you have anything else? Why did you decide to become a cop in the first place?"
"I'm sure I've already told you that story."
"We've talked about a lot of things, but I don't recall that one."
"It's silly," Regina mutters.
"Tell me anyway."
"When I was younger, I...I was frequently bullied in school. I may have been a bit of a nerdy, and a little on the chubby side. It was very...it was difficult. My parents weren't exactly the best at teaching me how to handle it. I felt powerless."
"Powerless," Archie echoes thoughtfully.
"And I remember once that a police officer came to career day, and he said that his job was to find the people who hurt others, and to put them in jail so they couldn't do it anymore. I was nine, and...I know it sounds silly now, but I knew that was what I wanted. To protect people like me and get revenge on the bad guys."
"Would you say your career has met your expectations?" Archie asks.
"I don't know," she sighs. No, she thinks privately. Not at all, because her career ended up leading to someone hurting her much worse than any elementary school bullies ever could.
"What if you hadn't become a cop? What would you have done?"
"I don't know," she says again. "I would have...I haven't really thought about other jobs since then. My mother wanted me to get into business or law or be the first woman president, but I never wanted that. I think...honestly, the only other thing that's ever appealed to me was raising children." She laughs nervously. "Which, I'm sure, also sounds silly."
"None of that sounds silly," Archie says softly.
"Well, it's obviously not something I can have at this point, so there's no use even considering it."
"What makes you so sure you can't?" She levels him with her best glare and he blows out a resigned puff of air. "Okay, you're clearly not ready to talk about that. But, back to Emma-"
"I don't even know how I feel about her anymore," Regina interrupts harshly."So let's just drop it."
"I think you know exactly how you feel about her, and you've said as much in here before. Regina, I'm not trying to push you or pry into your personal life, I'm just trying to help you be happy."
"I'm happy the way things are between Emma and me."
"Just like you were happy on the force?"
"I'm done talking about this with you," Regina snaps, abruptly pushing herself off the couch and out the door.
"Regina, wait! I...I'll see you next Monday," Archie mutters, defeated, as she slams the door behind her.
Regina marches down the hall and doesn't stop moving until she's safely in her car, where she leans forward and rests her head on the steering wheel and tries not to cry. She wonders if her life will ever get less confusing, or if she's doomed to uncertainty for the rest of her days.
Maybe it's some kind of karmic punishment for not marrying Daniel.
Maybe she really is mentally unfit for duty.
Friday morning dawns bright and early. Regina can hear Henry bouncing around in the living room, even though it's only five – Emma had said he wouldn't be able to sleep with all the excitement of their upcoming trip. She considers getting up to make him breakfast, coming up with a quiet activity for him so he won't wake Emma, who is improving but still needs much more rest than usual, but then she realizes that something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
Somehow, in spite of starting out the night practically hanging off the edge of the bed in her effort not to touch Emma, Regina has managed to migrate all the way over to the other side of the mattress, and she's curled up against Emma's good side with one arm slung over the other woman's waist.
How the hell had she not noticed? She never sleeps so deeply that she wouldn't register physical contact. Now that she's conscious, her entire body feels like it's on fire.
She can't be here; she can't do this. It's one thing to accept Emma's touch when they're both awake and it's freely and consciously given, even though she knows the contact means far more to her than it does to Emma, it's quite another to hug her in her sleep.
Gently, carefully, so she won't wake Emma, she starts to draw her arm back in toward her body and tries to roll over.
But then Emma, who she's certain is still asleep, unearths her good arm from under Regina and wraps it around her shoulders, pulling her in closer.
She sighs deeply and contentedly and Regina all but stops breathing.
There are tingles all over her body, radiating outward from where Emma's skin is touching hers, and she wants to scream and she wants to cry and maybe throw up and then run until she can't run anymore, but she also wants to stay here and snuggle, because it's been far too long since anyone has held her like this and she's missed it more than she has the words to express.
She lets herself lie there for a few minutes, relaxing into Emma's touch even as the dread and disgust in the pit of her stomach swirl and grow (she's almost certain that Emma would not be okay with this situation if she were to wake up) until her self-loathing supersedes her need for comfort and forces herself to extract her body from Emma's surprisingly strong grasp and flee into the bathroom before she wakes Emma or frightens Henry with the sobs threatening to burst from her chest.
Keeping her eyes carefully averted from the mirror, she practically rips her clothes off and dives into the shower where she finally breaks down once the sound of water becomes loud enough to drown out her tears.
It's going to be a long day.
"Wow, this place is even bigger than I remember," Emma remarks as they pull up to the Mills-Martinez estate.
"That's impossible," Regina says tersely. "Houses are inanimate objects; they can't grow."
"Yeah, Mom, must be your brain injury talking," Henry jokes, but a quick glance at the back seat reveals that he's just as mystified as his mother.
Regina has been incredibly tense all morning, even more than usual, if that's possible. Emma thinks that maybe it's about seeing her parents, but that seems unlikely. When she'd called her mother the night before to let her know they were coming, she'd seemed in reasonably high spirits. In a week of living together and a couple months of partnership, she's like to think she's become reasonably adept at recognizing the signs that Regina is upset about something. None had been present.
Now, though, there's clearly something bothering her, and Emma has no idea what it is. The soothing tactics she's used in the past aren't working either. Every time she reaches out to squeeze Regina's hand or rub her shoulder, the other woman recoils like she's been shocked with static electricity. It's confusing and awkward and Emma isn't quite sure what to do.
So she just shrugs, gets out of the car, and follows a stiff-backed Regina and bouncing Henry up the front walk, hoping for the best.
Big Henry answers the door dressed in riding clothes, because apparently small-town mayors don't actually have to work on Friday mornings.
Neither, apparently, do pioneering female CEOs of big-time investment corporations, Emma thinks as she hears Cora's high-heels – Who the hell wears high-heels in their own home? – clacking their way down the staircase.
Henry holds his daughter for a long time, slowly rubbing her lower back as she rests her head on his shoulder.
At this point in her life, Emma is mostly over wishing she had parents; at least half the time, they seem to me much more trouble than they're worth. Henry Martinez, though, is making her reconsider. She'd like to have someone to give her hugs like that: it looks like the kind of hug that would make all of your problems just float away.
Regina seems to agree, because her body is much more relaxed when she finally pulls away. "Mother, Daddy, you remember Emma and Henry," she says with a warm smile.
"Of course, dear," Cora says quickly, immediately coming over to give Emma a firm handshake. "How lovely to see you both again."
"Yeah, you too," Emma replies, and Henry just nods while Big Henry envelops him in his own hug. Then, a minute later, his arms are around Emma.
"Daddy, be careful," Regina hisses. "Her collarbone is still tender."
"I'm fine," Emma says quickly. What's a little shoulder pain compared to the best dad-hug she's ever gotten in her life?
"My husband's a bit of a hugger," Cora apologizes. She looks slightly embarrassed, but she quickly covers it up. "We were very glad to hear that you're recovering nicely. I think your injury gave everyone a bit of a scare," she adds with a glance at her daughter, who suddenly becomes very interested in her fingernails.
"It was a scary moment," Emma allows, suppressing a disappointed sigh as Big Henry finally releases her from his arms. "But I've been healing faster than the doctors thought I would, so I'll be back to normal in no time."
"That's excellent news," Cora says brightly.
"Regina's been a really big help," she suddenly feels the urge to add. "Helping me around the house and taking care of Henry and everything. I don't know what I'd do without her."
"It's nothing," Regina mumbles.
"It's not nothing," Emma argues. "It means a lot to me."
"And me," Henry pipes up.
Regina's cheeks turn an uncharacteristic shade of pink and she plays with the chain around her neck for a moment before clearing her throat and suggesting, "Should we start the riding lesson before it gets too hot?"
Regina and the Henrys head out toward the stables, and Emma wanders into the kitchen after Cora. "Need any help?" she offers. "I'm not the most amazing cook, but I'm apparently decent at grating cheese one-handed."
The older woman laughs. "Well, this meal requires a lot of cheese, so your skills will certainly come in handy."
"Awesome," Emma replies as Cora hands her a block of cheese. "Cheese is pretty much Henry's favorite food group. Little Henry, I mean. My son."
Cora laughs again. "It's also Big Henry's favorite, although he's technically supposed to avoid it. He had a heart attack about five years ago, so we try to limit that sort of thing. But Regina's here, so we may as well indulge."
"May as well," Emma echoes.
The two women work in silence for a few minutes, before Emma looks up and sees that her partner's mother is staring at her. "Everything okay?" she asks
"My daughter seems quite smitten with you," Cora says, as if that explains anything.
Blinking in confusion, Emma barely notices when the cheese falls out of her hand and drops onto the stool with a loud thump. What the hell does that mean? "Um...thanks, I guess?"
"That was a compliment," Cora clarifies. "She really doesn't let many people into her life anymore, so you must be very special."
Emma shrugs and picks up the cheese, taking a quick break from grating to stretch her arm. "I don't know about that."
There's a far-off look in Cora's eyes as she explains, "It's quite rare. She's always had...walls, I suppose you would call them. And part of that was my doing; I urged her to strive for success, to put relationships on the back burner. She was very shy as a little girl, and some of the other children used to mock her...well, anyway, I always told her not to let their words hurt her, to focus on bettering herself so she could throw it in their faces at reunions. She took my advice, perhaps a little too well, and then, after the whole thing with White, it became about twenty times worse."
"I meant the part about me being special," Emma interrupts awkwardly, since it seems like Cora barely remembers she has an audience.
"Oh, yes, of course," the older woman says quickly, clearing her throat like she suddenly realizes she's said far too much. "I'm sure you're special, dear. Or, at the very least, you're special to her."
Emma raises an eyebrow. "Is this one of those 'mothers always know' things?" she inquires.
"It is. Regina and I aren't the closest, which is mostly my fault, but her heart is on her sleeve if you know what to look for. And I...I wasn't always as supportive as I could have been of her relationship with Daniel. I was very judgmental when she made choices that wouldn't have been the same ones I made, and I fear that I may have alienated her when she needed me the most. But now I realize...well, anyway, Miss Swan, I just want you to know that whatever is going on between the two of you, you have my full support. Not that you need it, of course. You're both adults who can choose how to run your lives."
"Thanks, then," Emma mutters, staring uneasily at cheese shavings on the counter and wondering how unsanitary it would be if she started playing with them. She needs something to keep her hand busy. "But, I think...I think you might be a little confused. Regina and I aren't...we're not-"
"Oh." Cora nods slowly and then says, "Of course not," like she doesn't believe it at all.
She picks up the spoon and starts rolling pasta dough again like nothing ever happened, and Emma stares open-mouthed at the cheese for a moment before finally shrugging and picking it up again, grating as furiously as she can with one arm and a million different thoughts swirling around and colliding like there's a fucking tornado in her brain.
If she's understanding the conversation correctly – and the neurologist says her reflexes may still be lagging behind a bit but her language processing ability is perfectly normal – then Regina's mom thinks Regina...has some sort of feelings for her. Feelings of a romantic nature. She's pretty sure she just got compared to Daniel. Regina's fiancé. The one she was about to have a baby with.
She's not sure if she wants to laugh or run screaming for the hills. Maybe both at the same time.
It's not possible. It's not. She'd be lying if she said she had never thought about it, especially after that time they almost kissed, but Regina has never given any indication of being interested in women in general, much less Emma. And even if she was, it's not like they would ever be able to pursue a relationship. They're coworkers – more than coworkers, they're partners; there are professional barriers they just can't cross.
But if they could?
An image pops into her mind, so vivid it almost feels real. An image of her and Regina cooking dinner together, laughing and joking with Henry, listening to music as they clean the kitchen together and then playing video games for a while before kissing each other good night. Then they would curl up in bed together, skin on skin, and hold each other close to ward off nightmares. Regina would wake up first and rouse Emma with a kiss on the cheek, and then they could go running together and come home to shower and feed the kid breakfast before carpooling to work.
"Ouch!" she suddenly exclaims as she accidentally grates her finger. She'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed the block of cheese slowly disappearing from her hand.
"Looks like you're finished," Cora remarks. "Is your finger okay?"
"I think so," Emma says, studying it closely. "Looks like I didn't break the skin."
"Glad to hear it, dear," Cora says. "I was thinking we might wait for the others to come back before continuing our preparations; Little Henry might enjoy making ravioli."
"I bet he would. Regina taught him how to make lasagna last week, and he had the time of his life."
Cora nods. "Regina's famous lasagna. She got that recipe from me, but the red pepper flakes are her own special touch."
"They're a nice touch, but I'm sure it's also pretty good without them. Your family is really into pasta, huh?"
"I'm fairly certain pasta is as close as this world gets to magic."
Emma laughs and decides that she likes Cora Mills, even if her assessment of her daughter's relationships is way off.
"Your mother told me about what happened at the hospital," Big Henry murmurs as he and Regina walk sedately to the barn, Little Henry running ahead of them. Regina groans. Of course, that would explain why he's been shooting her concerned looks and has barely removed his arm from around her waist since she arrived.
"I'm fine, Daddy," she says curtly.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you," he continues. "I didn't find out until much later. Apparently, your mother thought-"
"I said I'm fine. We don't need to talk about it anymore."
"I know, sweetheart, but I just want to make sure you know that if you do need someone, we're here."
"I'm seeing Dr. Hopper again," Regina says robotically. "It's been helpful."
"I'm glad to hear it. I just wanted to remind you that you also have parents who love you, and if there's anything we can do, you shouldn't hesitate to ask us."
"I know, Daddy. I...thank you. I just..."
"I'm sorry," Henry says, stopping to wrap both of his arms around her. "I know you don't like to talk about it. I just wish there was anything I could do to take this pain away from you."
"I'm fine," Regina insists, but she lets her father cradle the back of her head and leans against him. She's far too old, she thinks, to still rely on her parents for comfort. Especially her father; every time she hugs him, she's struck by how much smaller and frailer he feels since the last time. She knows it's partially her imagination, that her father still works full-time and plays golf and rides horses and is generally fitter than he was ten years ago. He had taken the doctor's advice very seriously after his heart attack.
Still, it's hard to ignore the fact that he's already seventy-five, and her mother is pushing seventy. They're both healthy and active, but still, she worries.
And they would both probably tell her she's getting anxious over nothing and they're both going to be around a while, long after she's gotten sick of them, but she can't seem to stop herself and she keeps hugging him tighter until he clears his throat and suggests they hurry up and get to the barn.
Little Henry is waiting in front of Bear's stall. "Can I ride him again?" he asks.
Big Henry looks at Regina, and she immediately nods. "Of course," she replies, forcing a smile.
"Phoenix hasn't been out in a while," her father says. "Would you like to ride him, Regina?"
She shrugs. "Sure." She doesn't know anything about Phoenix – one of her father's more recent trainees – but she's never had a problem with any of her family's horses. Except Blue. Blue has always hated her for no reason.
He helps them groom and saddle the horses, then leaves them to their own devices so he can exercise Blue somewhere that Regina's presence won't trouble her.
When they're out of Big Henry's earshot, Little Henry turns to Regina and says, "Your dad's pretty cool.
"He is, isn't he?" Regina agrees.
"Do you think he should be in our book?"
She raises her eyebrows. "I'm sure he'd be flattered, but what would his role be?"
"I don't know," Henry says with a shrug, "but I'm sure I can think of something."
"How's chapter two coming along anyway?" Regina asks.
"It's good. I haven't had that much time to write it, though, because I don't want Mom to see."
"She did find your previous portrayal of the swan slightly unflattering."
Henry giggles. "It's not the smartest swan," he says mischievously, "but I have big plans for it. I've already got the ending written in my head."
Regina stares at him in confusion. "What do you mean, you know the ending?" she demands. She doesn't want their story to ever end.
"Not the whole thing, just this installment. I just need to wait for it to actually happen."
"I see," says Regina. She's still confused, but she supposes she can deal with it. "I hope there are many more installments to come."
"Me too," Henry grins. "So, anyway, I read online that the next speed above a trot is a canter. Can we learn that today?"
Regina laughs and tells him they can, and the rest of the lesson, not to mention the rest of the visit, is a huge success. Henry proves to be excellent at both cantering and making ravioli. On the drive back to Boston, looking over her two sleeping passengers in the rearview mirror, Regina is pleased to note that this time, there hadn't been any awkward questions leading to hurtful comments from Cora, and no uncomfortably emotional moments between herself and Emma. Of course, that means there are no almost-kisses when they return home, but nothing can be perfect.
Besides, she's not sure she has the emotional wherewithal to deal with another incident like that, she thinks as she crawls into bed beside Emma and pushes several pillows between them so she won't wake up to any more horrifyingly pleasant surprises. Her body is itching to inch closer, to feel the warm and comfortable body in her arms again, but she can't.
Part of what she told Dr. Hopper is true, at least: she is happy the way things are between her and Emma. She's happier than she's been in a very long time, happier than she had thought she ever could be (or deserved to be) again.
It's greedy to want more, not to mention pointless. Soon enough, Emma will heal, Henry will go back to New York, they'll both go back to work full-time, and Regina will move back to her own apartment. Everything will be back to as it was before; the alternative is unthinkable.
And Regina will have to relearn how to be satisfied with it.
She rolls onto her side and stares at Emma's peacefully slumbering form across the mountain of pillows between them and feels her eyes fill with tears. She squeezes them shut and tries to silence the voice in her head telling her that she isn't even satisfied right now, and she waits for sleep to come.
It doesn't.
The next week passes by quickly. Regina goes to work four out of five days; she's still just doing filing and people only speak to her when they absolutely can't avoid it, but she finds she doesn't mind it. She keeps her head down and leaves without complaint when Robin tells her to (she can tell she's confusing him, and she thinks she might be enjoying it). Every morning, leaving gets a little easier, because every afternoon when she comes home, Emma and Henry are waiting for her. As Emma continues to improve, they start leaving the apartment more often, going for walks and people-watching downtown. Regina's Mario Kart skills improve, and Henry starts teaching her how to play other video games. Her favorite involves people magically dueling each other.
Emma starts to grow restless as her mind returns to normal but she's still not allowed to fully resume her normal activities. She can tell she's starting to drive Henry insane by relying on him for entertainment when Regina's not there, but he puts up with it, probably because he's still somewhat afraid of losing her. She reminds herself that she has to do something nice for him, because Regina's riding lesson doesn't count as her gift, but she's at a loss for what.
She thinks she could ask Regina for advice, but she's almost scared to try, because Regina has started doing her hot-and-cold thing again and she's not sure what to make of it. At this point, she's almost certain that it has nothing to do with her, but that doesn't make the random barbs hurt any less. However, it does help that they're always followed by an apology that includes homemade desserts.
Overall, though, she has to say that – boredom notwithstanding – she's really enjoying her recovery process. She gets to spend more time with her son than she has in years, and although she's never been the roommate type, it's kind of nice to live with another adult. She sometimes wonders if maybe Regina wants to continue the arrangement after their period of convalescence is over.
Then she quickly pushes the thought from her mind because, no matter what Regina's crazy mother might say, that's not possible. She tries not to think too much about Cora's assessment of Regina's feelings. She doesn't know for sure whether or not it's true, but she does know that, deep down, she wants it to be, and that's bad enough.
Emma is sitting alone one afternoon, attempting to read the copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets that Henry left lying around. She hopes that maybe an easy book that she's read a hundred times before will somehow be able to occupy her mind without giving her a headache.
That's strange, she thinks when she hears a knock at the door. Henry is with Neal, shopping for the long list of stuff he needs to bring to summer camp, and won't be back for several hours. She's not expecting anyone – well, maybe Regina's supposed to finish work soon, but Regina doesn't knock anymore.
Come to think of it, she's not sure if Regina has ever knocked.
She opens the door to see Mary Margaret Blanchard standing stiffly in front of it, holding a paper bag.
"Mary Margaret," she says in surprise. "Hi! Come in."
"I just came by to bring you a sandwich," the ADA explains. "It's from Regina – I guess Locksley's taking her to the shooting range as one of her tests for returning to active duty."
"She'll pass," Emma declares.
Mary Margaret nods and hands over the bag, shifting her weight uncomfortably between her feet. "She says she doesn't know when she'll be finished, but she wants to make sure you eat."
Laughing, Emma shakes her head. "She still doesn't think I'm capable of making my own lunch, apparently. How'd you get stuck on delivery duty? She threaten to kill you if you don't watch until I finish?"
"Well, she's trying not to do that anymore, but yes, she was very insistent that I make sure you eat."
"Come on in, then," says Emma, opening the door wider. "Long time, no see, huh?"
"Yeah, sure," the ADA replies, eyes grateful as she enters the apartment. "I'm sorry I haven't called. The last few weeks have been busy, and...well, I heard Regina was staying with you, and-"
"It's cool," Emma replies quickly, with a reassuring pat on Mary Margaret's shoulder. "I wasn't really up for much social interaction, anyway."
Mary Margaret nods. "So," she asks, "how have you been?"
"I've been pretty good. My head feels almost back to normal, and I'm allowed to resume light arm movement soon. I might be back at work in one or two weeks – just desk stuff, though. The neurologist wants to be cautious. I guess if you just got a concussion, you're at a much higher risk for another."
"Makes sense; your brain is still tender or something. Anyway, that's great!"
"Yeah, I'm getting a little bored just sitting around here, especially now that Henry's hanging out with his dad for a few days and Regina's back at work and stuff." Especially since she's not allowed to do much physical activity besides walking, and reading or watching TV for more than ten minutes at a time gives her headaches.
"Well, I'd say boredom is a good sign," says Mary Margaret, always one to look on the bright side of things. "It means your brain is working again."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Anyway, this is a pretty nice place. I love that throw," she comments, gesturing to the quilt draped over the back of the sofa.
"The one with horses and apples all over it? Thanks, but that's actually Regina's." So is the pillow – Regina had brought them over to make the couch more comfortable, although she hasn't actually slept there for quite a while. Emma supposes Mary Margaret doesn't need to know that, though.
Is it weird that they're sleeping together? Well, not sleeping together, but...okay, now that she thinks about it, it might be kind of strange. Especially since...
But Emma doesn't feel like thinking about that right now, so she doesn't.
"So, are you going to eat your sandwich, so I can give Her Majesty a favorable report?"
"Oh, yeah." Emma mumbles, suddenly remembering the sandwich – the reason Mary Margaret is even here. She sighs. "It probably has sprouts on it. She's been trying to improve my eating habits. Here, let me get a plate."
Mary Margaret follows Emma into the kitchen and snickers. "Nice apron," she teases.
"Oh, this? That's Regina's, too. Come on, do I really seem like someone who would wear an apron?"
"No, but neither does she."
"Fair enough," Emma allows, grabbing a plate from the cabinet before skillfully unwrapping her sandwich with one hand. "She does have really expensive clothes, though. It would suck to get tomato sauce all over them. Her dry-cleaning would – wait, no! I can't believe it! She got me a BLT."
"Is that a good thing?" Mary Margaret questions.
"It's a very good thing," Emma proclaims as she takes a giant bite of the sandwich. It means I'm winning her over."
Mary Margaret cocks her head thoughtfully to one side and says, "I see." She hesitates a second before asking, "Is...is there something going on between you two?"
Emma swallows and shrugs. "I honestly don't know," she admits. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason, just...well, it seems like she's pretty much moved into your apartment, and now you're talking about winning her over. I don't mean to pry," the ADA explains quickly. "I really don't. But it almost sounds like...maybe you want there to be something?"
"It does, doesn't it?" Emma asks, dropping her sandwich with a sigh. She should have known she wouldn't be able to avoid facing these feelings forever. She's always been good at putting up walls, keeping things hidden even from herself, but they always fall apart at some point.
And it appears that point starts now.
"Do you?"
"Maybe? I mean, I wouldn't be opposed, you know? Except for the fact that we work together – that's a pretty big issue. I definitely had kind of a little-girl crush on her when we first met, but I just ignored it, because-"
"Because you work together?" Mary Margaret guesses. "I understand."
"Yeah, I bet you do. But it's not just that. I mean, even if I'm interested, that doesn't mean she is. Like, is she even into women? I know she was engaged to a guy before, and I just...you know?"
"There is such a thing as bisexuality, you know?" Mary Margaret points out unhelpfully.
"Yes, I'm aware of that," Emma snaps. Mary Margaret smirks, and Emma realizes that she just sounded a whole lot like Regina. She quickly pushes the thought from her head. "But I don't know if Regina is bi."
"Right. I don't know that either."
"And she knows that I'm gay, so I feel like she would have said...I mean, if someone tells you they're into women, that might be something where you'd say, 'Hey, me too!' Wouldn't it?"
Mary Margaret shrugs. "I think it depends on the situation. And I also think that Regina's stance on sharing personal information might be different from yours or mine."
That's true, Emma admits to herself. She's always been a fairly private, reserved person – and so is Mary Margaret, to some degree – but Regina takes it to a whole new level. It's only after living together for the past few weeks that she's beginning to feel like she has a handle on understanding her partner. And even now...well, she assumes that if Regina liked women, she would have known about it by now, but maybe not.
"I probably shouldn't even tell you this," Emma says hesitantly, "but Regina's mother apparently thinks she's 'smitten' with me, whatever that means."
"Smitten means-"
"Yeah, I know the definition. I may not have gone to law school, but I've opened a dictionary or two. I just...I don't know what it means for her. Like, how would I know if that was true?"
"Are you really interested? In Regina, I mean? Romantically?"
Emma thinks for a few seconds; that's all it takes. "I am."
"And you want to...pursue that?"
"If we didn't work together? If I knew she was interested, too? Yeah, definitely then. But I have no idea. It would be weird just to ask her."
"I think, with Regina, you can't exactly listen to what she says. I mean...definitely listen to her, because that's what respectful people do, but you have to pay more attention to what she does. She might say she hates you, but then she'll do things like convince her rich mother to pay your law school tuition and write you an unsolicited letter of recommendation for your dream job, and then you'll realize that...that things aren't always what they seem on the surface."
"It sounds like you speak from experience," Emma observes. Under normal circumstances, she might be curious about this newfound revelation – Regina's relationship with the ADA is apparently more complicated than she'd thought. But now, she's just thinking about Regina making her dinner and watching her sleep and driving her to all her doctor's appointments and wondering if maybe there's some truth in what everyone's telling her.
But, honestly, that terrifies her. Having a little unrequited crush on Detective Regina Mills, legendary hero cop and the best partner ever, is one thing. How many straight women who just want to be friends has she had feelings for in the past? It's a part of life, one that she's become a near expert at handling. But the idea that those feelings might be returned is...that's something she has no idea how to handle.
People are talking about "pursuing" Regina, and she has no idea what that means. She knows how to flirt with women, sure – she's done that countless times. Asking them out on dates, inviting them back to her apartment or following them to theirs, having a good time together and then breaking it off after a few weeks at most. But Regina is different.
Emma's feelings about her are different.
She doesn't want drinks and dancing and sex with Regina – well, maybe she wants those things, too, but it's more than just that. Regina has already lived in Emma's apartment, has slept in the same bed with her in a domestic way, rather than a sexual one. They've met each other's families – Henry...Henry just adores Regina – and shared secrets, and...
No, if Emma were to pursue Regina, it would turn into something serious. Their situation and her own feelings would make anything less than serious feel disrespectful.
But that's just not going to happen.
"But, anyway, there's no point in even talking about it," she says definitively. "We do work together, and I don't get involved with coworkers. That's just a disaster waiting to happen, and whatever Regina's feelings toward me are, I bet she would agree."
Mary Margaret's face falls. "Maybe you're right," she says quietly.
"But, I mean, being partners is really different from, like, working in different departments that sometimes collaborate," Emma offers.
Mary Margaret smiles sadly and starts to walk toward the door. "I better get going. I have a bit more to do tonight, and I wouldn't want to distract you from that sandwich you're supposed to be eating."
"Oh, right, this," Emma laughs. "Bye, Mary Margaret. Thanks for coming over!"
"My pleasure," the ADA replies. "Hopefully I'll see you at the station soon?"
"That's the plan, anyway."
As Blanchard walks out the door, Emma takes another big bite of her sandwich and forces herself to think about anything but Regina.