The stables were empty now; the dried timbers like a skeleton, housing nothing but straw and heartache. Regina felt as hollowed out this barn as she passed each barren stall, the horses long ago sold off or dead with the exception of Rocinante who lived in the palace stables amongst the shiny black mounts her soldiers rode. Everyone that had touched this place was gone or dead. She released a trembling sigh.
This was where it all started and it was only fitting for it all to end here. Dressed in one of her best Evil Queen gowns of midnight blue silk and her hair twisted in a dastardly style, she would meet with Snow White and finally get her revenge. She clutched at the velvet purple sack in her hands, the contents guaranteeing her success. Sensing someone coming near, she slipped into a cool façade prepared face her foe.
"Hello Regina."
The brunette whipped around, her menacing smile faltered. The soft timber of the voice wasn't of Snow White as she had expected. Instead in the wide open door frame stood Emma Swan with a small grin on her face and hands raised up in mock surrender.
"What are you doing here?" She asked with biting incredulity. The blonde woman wore clothes from the Enchanted Forest, a dark blue vest over a delicate white blouse and riding pants. She looked like royalty, holding herself proudly like her mother but she was not without the influence of her father, possessing a bit of dashing roguishness from his commoner roots. This was not the Emma Swan of the real world. This woman grew up with two adoring parents; never knowing the hollow pang of abandonment or vicious backhand of reject. It was an admittedly attractive look on the blonde but her mind also repelled against it. Regina thought the would-be princess was better suited to the tight denim and chic leather that she normally wore.
And as selfish as it maybe, she preferred the scrappy sheriff to this polished princess. The Emma, not of the enchanted realm, held herself with a similar assuredness as the one before her, but there was an element of darkness to it. Regina knew it was a strength hard won. Her confidence didn't come from any shiny silver armor forged for her by the royal blacksmith, rather built from her numerous defeats with victories few and far between as she had to prove herself time and time again in an unkind, unforgiving world. It wasn't infallible but she would stand back up every time. The evil queen recognized this, knowing it intimately as it was the same way she earned her power. So she would choose the true Emma Swan with scrapes and scars and doubts that in many ways complimented her own.
Emma answered her questions calmly, "You wanted to show me something."
Having lost her self to thought, Regina could only reply with surprise, "I did?"
"Yeah, come on." She turned and went into the gray light outside, compelling Regina to follow. They walked up the grassy knoll, the blonde leading the way despite her declaration that the queen had something to show her. Looking out at the pastures, she could feel a twinge of joy that she remember from before all the tragedy struck; it now loomed over the fields like the gray rain clouds, tainting her memories. Regina reminisced with an idle tone. "This is where I saved your mother's life. I chased down her runaway horse, stopped them before they could crash or end in a deadly fall."
Emma's eyes trail the tree line with bland interest, "Has it changed a lot since then?"
"No." Regina said as they came to the top of the hill. "It's barely changed at all. This, however, is new."
At the crest, underneath a dormant apple tree, lay a black and white swirled marble marker. An ornate design of ivy with swoops and intricate leaves was etched into the stone, along with an emblazoned red heart at the center. The blonde stared somewhat blankly at the slab, "Is that a…"
"A grave? Yes." She said snappishly.
"Who's grave is it?" The other woman asked. The brunette was incensed that this savior would have no idea from whom the memorial represented, anger rolled up inside her like an incoming tide.
"His name was Daniel." She glowered then somewhat more faintly, "He was the love of my life."
"How did he die?" Emma blinked with confusion.
Regina decided she hated this mild manner and insipid shadow of the savior. "He died because Snow White couldn't keep her mouth shut. She promised to keep my secret but she lied. She told my mother of my plans to escape with Daniel."
She snarled at the woman, though much to her dissatisfaction she remained unfettered, calmly saying. "She was very young-"
"My mother ripped his heart out because of her. Because she couldn't listen to me!" The evil queen didn't let her finish the argument, shouting her grief at her still stoic companion. Emma nodded in a vague motion of understanding. "I'm sorry you lost him. It must be very difficult."
"Ha!" A short, bitter laugh jumped from her throat. "You couldn't possibly begin to understand. But your mother will soon enough."
"Is that what that is?" Emma's gaze fell to Regina's hands. Looking down, Regina discovered she was holding the lustrous red apple, almost extending it out to the younger woman. She couldn't even recall removing it from the small satchel.
"This?" She suddenly felt perplexed. The apple was not for Emma. She drew it back protectively, nearly cradling it to her chest. "This is just a morsel."
"What will it do? Will it kill me?" She didn't sound particularly scared at the idea just vaguely interested.
"No, much worse. Your body will be your tomb and you'll be in there with nothing but dreams formed of your own regrets." Regina detailed its sinister purpose, almost preening with the perfection of her plot.
"Will it make you happy if I eat it?" Emma asked, casually plucking the fruit from her hand, rolling it between her palms.
The queen gaped at her, stunned by her audacity. Then the rage came spewing out, "You think you can break my curse and bring back the happy endings? I will never let you or your idiotic, martyring parents have true love if I can't have mine."
"Come on Regina, you really think I know anything about breaking the curse? This?" She gestured to her knightly attire complete with a broad sword slung around her hips. "You know this isn't me. I'm not a hero in a storybook. Did you ever think maybe I was just a person trying to do the right thing? That maybe I just cared about you?"
"You- you can't. It can't be true." A low buzz filled her mind, setting her on edge and making her heart pound rapidly. The once familiar surrounds shifted so it felt flattened like stage set; the sky and tree in the distance just a cloth backdrop, the grass brittle like plastic, and Daniel's headstone appeared like a gaudy imitation.
"It doesn't have to be like this." Emma's voice sounded muffled. Regina's eyes snapped up to the other woman still fiddling with the apple. She found that even she looked different, taller and broader. Her face smoothed of any imperfection and her blond hair an iridescent white.
"There is no other way for it to be." Regina said with resigned melancholy.
"Yes there is." The princess spoke gently. "Just think about it, okay?"
Nothing made sense. They weren't supposed to be here. Emma wasn't supposed to be here. The world around them descended into inky blackness, leaving them spotlighted in the middle of nowhere. Panic seized the queen's throat as she felt herself immobilized by an unseen force. She could do nothing to stop what was unfolding. Emma reiterated, "Think about it."
Then she raised the apple to her mouth, taking a bite of the sweet fruit. She swallowed her oddly too-green eyes never leaving Regina's until suddenly they slipped shut. She collapsed to her knees before falling completely on the ground with a sickening thud. While the Evil Queen could do nothing but watch in horror.
"No!" A choked cry fell from Regina's lips as she ripped herself from the dream.
The brunette sat up quickly, panting lightly as she regained her senses. Her subconscious had apparently decided to start reeking havoc on her, though she desperately wanted to ignore it. It didn't help that the strangely ominous smell of baked apple filled her home.
After dismissing her errand boy, she made quick work of the newly procured poison apple. Slicing away the bite mark and chopping it to small pieces, adding brown sugar, cinnamon, and butter. Methodically kneading the dough and rolling it out into a thin sheet, Regina spooned the apple mixture onto it. Expertly, she folded the dough over and cutting away the excess, she crimped the edges sealing in the deadly delicious concoction. Baking seemed an all too simple solution for a problem of her magnitude but when your enemy has a sweet tooth it was the natural thing to do Regina had mused as she place the pastry in the hot oven.
She wandered away from the kitchen with a feeling of satisfaction, though the high of her soon-to-be victory rapidly diminished. Unease seeped into her mind and her stomach churned uncomfortably as she fidgeted uncharacteristically about her house before landing in her study. The mayor placed herself on the leather couch with a glass of whiskey to wait out the duration of the cook time. The alcohol soothed her to an extent and the night of fitful sleep caught up to her as she found she had drifted off to sleep. The moment of unconscious proved not to be a reprieve as she dreamed yet another hallucination starring the ubiquitous Emma Swan.
Images of the blonde strayed across her thoughts, most dismayingly the image of her crumbled form, pallid and unmoving. Against her wishes, Regina had dropped to her side and gathered the fallen body into her arms, crying out for the woman to wake up until it all erupted in the anguished 'no' that fiercely woke her. She tried to push away the pictures, instead tried to remember the crushing feeling of Daniel fade away in her arms but that pain was just an echo of the earth shattering feeling of Emma cold and limp in her grasp. She shuddered. She took gulping breaths and the last dreg of her drink to calm down. Rationality was resettling over her when the doorbell rang sharply.
She snapped to attention, her automatically spine elongating and tousling her hair back into place. Running her hands self-consciously down her crispy white button to her black slacks, she stood on timid feet as if cautious to approach the door. A cursory glance in the hall mirror assured she did not look disheveled and so she gathered her confidence and went to answer the door.
Regina tugged the brass knob with conviction but still she was not prepared for the sight of Emma Swan standing brazenly on her porch clad in her signature red leather jacket, zipped neatly to her chin as if a sheath of armor. She looked tired yet prepared for something monumental; the brunette barely noticed though. She only cared how beautifully alive the other woman looked, the relief at seeing her bright if somewhat wary eyes lifted the veil of her dark dream.
"We need to talk." Emma's comment brought her back to reality. Realizing she had been blatantly staring, Regina cleared her throat.
"Yes, I imagine we do. I was just about to call you." She stepped aside to allow Emma entrance. "Come right in."
The blonde steeled herself and strode into her home as if she were diving into a cold pool, quickly and before she could change her mind. Letting the door click shut behind her, the mayor keenly watched Emma ascend the small staircase to the above landing. She very much appreciated the way Emma's skirt clung to her hips and imagined sliding her hands under the garment. She hated how much she still wanted the other woman. The distance she placed between them after the fall out aided in her denial but with the blonde within arms length she was nearly consumed with her presence. Her eyes raked over her strong slender frame as she followed her footsteps. As Emma turned to face her, Regina covered her obvious gawking by with a condescending remark, "Do what you're so skilled at and make yourself at home."
Emma hardly reacted to the barb, actually averting her gaze to look at her riding boots, shuffling awkwardly in the foyer her bravado seemed to have faltered. Regina reminded her sharply, "I believe you came to see me."
Green eyes snapped up and she took a deep breath before beginning. "Right, look. This isn't easy. I think that this… whatever it is between us needs to end."
It was a loaded sentiment. Their affair had abruptly ended a while ago, barring the one back slide in the sheriff's station. Now it marred her thoughts like a broken down car sitting on the front lawn, unmovable and unlikely to be fixed anytime soon. Whatever had been blossoming between them shriveled up and left only the thorns for them to prick each other with. Still she could not deny there was more than anger behind the heated looks and arguments that they exchanged. The complexity of everything, the hate and desire at constant odds with each other was exhausting yet Regina wanted to dig her fingers in and hold on because it was better than the alternative of letting Ms. Swan go; having something with Emma was better than nothing she was realizing.
Despite this she found herself saying, "At last, something we can agree on."
Emma swallowed, her face pinched with desperation. "I want to make a deal with you about Henry."
"I'm not making any deals with you." She instinctively refused.
Then Emma declared like it was her last card to play, "I'm leaving town."
Her stomach dropped unpleasantly. "What?"
"This… what we are doing is a problem. And I'm going to go." The blonde spoke choppily like it was difficult to summon up the next word. Regina felt as if she was slipping further and further down into a dark pit as she continued. "But I have conditions. I still get to see Henry. I get to visit and spend time, whatever."
"And you get to see him. You're still in his life." Regina said bitterly. She would still be in Regina's life though just barely. It would be a stilted conversation at Granny's or a brief waved from a yellow bug when she came to visit. Mostly the blonde would just be gone, leaving her and Henry to grow more distant, more withdrawn, more resentful. Then Henry would be old enough to leave Storybrooke on his own, and she would never need to come back at all. Her son would not need to come back, not with his real mother out there in the world were things grew and changed. He may decide that it really was childish to believe in fairytale nonsense. He would ask Emma if she remembered his outlandish fantasies and they would laugh, while Regina sat alone in her mansion just as she sat alone in her palace with darkness descending around her.
"Look, in any deal, both parties are a little unhappy. But let's be honest, we both know the world where I'm not in his life no longer exists. And there's no one who can do anything about that." The sheriff, or soon-to-be ex-sheriff, spoke with grave certainty. A tense silence hummed between them. Regina flexed her fingers, a nervous habit from a time when she could make magic dance from them. She geared up for a fight.
And then a faint ding of the timer sounded from the kitchen like the cartoonish bell of an idea popping to mind. Regina recalled her solution simmering away and managed a small smile. "You're right."
To Emma's credit she did her best not to look completely bowled over by her sudden amiability. Regina gestured to the back of the house. "Would you mind following me for a moment?"
Once in the kitchen, the brunette busied herself with removing the perfectly golden brown pastry from the oven, letting the banal, domestic task calm her. "So what are you proposing?"
"I don't know." The other woman shrugged. "I thought we'd just figure it out as we go. I think after some time apart we may have better perspective."
She resisted the urge to criticize the rather lackluster plan. Did she think that she would alternate Thanksgivings and Christmases? Instead she set aside the hot tray and turned to square off with Emma. "But he's my son."
It was like an assertion of her victory. She waited as her opponent hesitated before conceding her feeble defeat. "Yeah."
She turned to go but Regina was not done with this battle. She called out gently tugging her back into her web. "Oh, Ms. Swan."
She pulled out a to-go container. "Maybe a little something for the road?"
Emma blinked once, watching Regina spatula the flaky dessert into the Tupperware. "Thanks."
"If we are going to be in each other's lives it's time we start being cordial." The lid clicked into place. "My famous turnovers, old recipe, but delicious."
The queen felt the echo of her dream, extending the apple to the savior and her innocent question 'will it make you happy if I eat it?' Emma looked at her with sad and intense eyes that openly traced her face and the curves of her body. It was a look of longing and could-have-been. It spoke of goodbye and it happened to be the only thing keeping her from snatching away tainted treat because the brunette refused to relinquish her from their twisted game. Under indefinite slumber, the savior would remain, perhaps in the very hospital bed where her father had lain comatose. Regina imagined sitting at her bedside and admiring the unchanging blonde curls and long lashes that lay softly against pale skin; her own personal sleeping beauty. Finally Emma ended her reverie and simply said. "Thank you."
The words were heavier with meaning than pure gratitude for a homemade dessert. Regina curled her lips in a too-sweet smile. "I do hope you like apples."
Emma nodded, moving to take her leave. Regina followed, asking conversationally as she escorted her unwitting victim to the exit. "Where will you go? Back to Boston?"
"You're leaving?" An alarmed voice startled them both as their eyes flashed to Henry having just walked into the home.