A/N: Firstly, I was blown away by the response to the first chapter – thank you so much! After 3 months away, I wasn't sure how many people were still reading SwanQueen fanfic but I'm pleased to discover it's alive and well. More than ever, we need one another as a community. I know most of you will skip this note, but I just wanted to clarify a few things:

1. When I said I was going to post sporadically, that meant randomly but almost certainly more frequently than the once a week I used to stick to, as evidenced by this chapter you're ready 24 hours after chapter 1! Basically, when I have spare time, I'll be writing…

2. I'm not in any way trying to capitalise on the fear and tragedy of the current epidemic. The whole world is scared and everyone is suffering. I've lost clients from my business because of what's happening. I've not left my village in 9 days. My 100 year old grandad is alone in a house 200 miles away and we can't go and visit him. Two of my close friends are doctors working for the NHS. I know three people, including my sister-in-law, who currently have Covid-19. Believe me, I'm in the same boat as you all.

3. This story is purely meant as escapism. I started writing it because the idea formed but I was/am extremely conscious of not making Emma and Regina be quarantined because of covid-19. This story won't be so much about the lockdown conditions we're all living in but more about the relationship between our two lovely ladies. Which, I hope, is why you guys usually read my stories! In the dark times we live in, I hope I can offer just a little happiness.

4. Let's face it, the opportunity to write a story with a double Q name was just too good to pass up.

Ok, that was a stupidly long A/N. On with the story!

Hands curled around the edge of the kitchen counter. Fingers gripped, knuckles tensed. She hung her head, hair falling down to shield her face from … reality? Life? The situation?

Which situation? There were two, she decided. One led to the other but nevertheless, two situations had emerged. One was the fact that she and her family needed to stay inside for an indefinite amount of time in order to stay safe. The other was that her family once again included Emma Swan. Well, Emma Swan-Mills. The blonde hadn't changed her name back yet. The divorce wasn't finalised.

Looking up, she gazed out of the large window above the kitchen sink. Beyond it, the world appeared unchanged. There was no billowing, ominous yellow cloud unfurling before her. People weren't running down the street screaming. In fact, there was no one outside at all. And even that wasn't unusual as they lived at the end of a cul-de-sac. But she knew their location wasn't the reason for the low foot traffic. Her phone had already pinged with two additional notifications, warning her to stay indoors and to secure all windows and doors shut.

Which she had done. She had made sure her house was safe, a sanctuary to protect everyone inside from the threat which had appeared. The only problem was, that sanctuary contained Emma. Not that Regina wished any harm on Emma for one moment. Their marriage might have ended and Regina was still hurting as a result of Emma's actions. However, those factors didn't add up to Regina wishing Emma ill. Certainly not in the form of exposure to a dangerous chemical. But, if she was honest with herself, the thought of spending the next few days, at least, in close quarters with the blonde did not sit well with her.

The events of the previous autumn were still raw. She was still in pain, still angry, still dealing with the knowledge that their marriage had broken down. Even if she was the person who had called an end to the relationship, who had asked for the divorced, that didn't mean she wasn't in pain. Deep pain. Intense pain. Like a knife to the gut, unyielding. That pain and sorrow had become her constant companion over the last few months. It became more acute, she had discovered, when Henry was out of the house and spending time with Emma, lessening only slightly when he walked back into the family home.

The pain intensified also whenever she saw Emma, appearing to pick up or drop Henry off. She ran a hand over her stomach. How on earth was she going to survive this lockdown?

"Do you want a hand with dinner?"

She jumped at the familiar voice behind her, not aware that Emma had descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Regina turned around and schooled her features into the mask she was so adept at wearing whenever she had to speak to Emma since the blonde had moved out.

"No, thank you, I'm fine. Go and play video games with Henry or something. Distract him from what's going on."

"Henry's upstairs googling the chemical which has been leaked from the plant," Emma replied, pulling out one of the chairs at the casual dining table and sitting down. "He said it was, and I quote, cool."

"And this is why I hate the internet," Regina sighed. "Do we really want our eleven-year-old knowing about why we have to stay inside?"

"Do we have a choice? It he was four, maybe we could hide it from him, but he's old enough to be told the truth. This is going to be a significant disruption in his life. He has a right to know what's going on. Plus, he cracked the last parental lock I put on his computer in three minutes, so do we even have a choice?"

"I'd just rather be the one controlling what he knows. The internet is going to be filled with all sorts of scary information about this leak. The notifications I got were alarming enough and they barely mentioned anything."

At that, Emma pulled out her cell from her pocket. "Can I charge this, by the way? I reckon I probably need to be up to date too."

Regina took the cell from Emma's hand and plugged it into the charger which always dangled from one of the kitchen sockets. The screen illuminated at once, grateful for being brought back to life. "You're just lucky this happened after you and Henry were back here. Imagine what could have happened if you were still on the trail. I told you, this is why you need your cell on you at all times."

"In the event of chemical leaks? Yeah, cos that's an everyday occurrence," Emma chuckled.

Regina, who had started to cut an onion in preparation for their dinner, shook her head in mild disbelief. "It might not be everyday but it's happened today, Emma. And had you not been here, you and Henry could have been exposed. You could have been trapped behind a roadblock, which apparently are going up all over town now. I mean, keeping your cell charged isn't too much to ask, is it? You're an adult, after all."

"Fine, I get it," Emma snapped. "I won't do it again."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. It was a familiar state the two women had found themselves in frequently in the weeks leading up to Emma moving out. Awkward silences and screaming matches. Those were their two forms of communication. Until it became too much and Regina begged Emma to leave, to just get out, to give her space. The blonde had wanted to argue but the look on Regina's face broke her heart, so she had nodded and packed that evening. The space Regina asked for had turned into divorce papers.

"I ought to change," Emma murmured after gazing at her knees for a few minutes, Regina now having moved on to chopping garlic.

"You can borrow some clothes," Regina replied without turning around. "Put those in the laundry. I'll put a load on later."

"I can do the laundry, Gina," Emma offered. "I'll do Henry's too. We both got pretty filthy on the ride."

"Ok, thanks. Henry's clothes will be -"

"On the floor of the bathroom," Emma finished. "I know our son, Gina."

The knife was placed down, a little harder than necessary beside the board, hands splayed across the counter. "Please don't call me that."

Emma, who had stood from the chair and was now in the doorway, looked over at her wife. For that was what Regina still was, to her. Until those papers were signed, they were still married. And that meant there was a glimmer of hope. But as Emma watched the familiar curve of the brunette's shoulders shudder lightly, that glimmer became a little less bright.

"Sorry," she whispered, tears sparkling in her own eyes as she retreated from the kitchen, leaving Regina alone.

On the threshold to what had once been their marital bedroom, Emma paused. She had permission from Regina to enter in order to find some clean clothes, but she still hesitated. Memories of the last time she was in there flashed through her mind. It was weeks prior to when she'd eventually moved out, having been relegated to the spare room for those final, agonising days. She couldn't blame Regina for not wanting Emma near her. But returning to this space, which had once been filled with so many happy memories, gave her pause.

They had sat together on the end of the bed, waiting for the pregnancy test to tell them whether the IVF had worked. Emma had sat in the large bay window, nursing Henry in the early hours while Regina dozed in their bed. Regina had emerged from the bathroom, wearing in a breath-taking outfit the evening they celebrated her getting tenure. Emma had opened the letter informing her that she'd passed her Masters while sat in that bed, Regina curled into her side. And if you looked closely, you could just see the faint stain on the carpet where Henry had spilled coffee last Valentine's Day when he had insisted on making his moms breakfast in bed.

A room full of memories. Mostly good, some bad. This had been where their marriage began to fall apart. Right there, Emma thought, zoning in on the chair in front of the dresser. That was where Regina had been sitting when Emma had told her the truth. And that had been the last evening the two of them had gotten ready for bed side by side. After Emma's confession, she had been banished, rightly so, to the guest room.

Steeling herself, she stepped inside the room. It smelled like Regina. Her perfume, her skin products, her. Emma's heart ached a little, ached for all she had lost, all she had given up. And all she wished she could get back. But was Regina ever going to forgive her? Was she ever going to be in a space where she could consider taking Emma back? Not at the moment, for sure.

Crossing the room, Emma decided it was best to get in and get out as quickly as possible. Wrenching open the middle drawer, she grabbed the first old t-shirt she could find. The bottom drawer contained the few pairs of jeans her wife owned. Once she had selected the pair she knew were Regina's least favourite and therefore least likely to be missed, she slid the drawer closed.

Stripping down quickly, she pulled t-shirt over her head, trying to ignore the way her nostrils filled with the familiar scent of their laundry detergent, mixed with what could only be Regina. The jeans were a little less easy. While Emma and Regina were a similar size, Emma's legs were longer by several inches, leaving her ankles sticking out from the blue denim. But they'd do. She grabbed her discarded, muddy clothes and hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

"Mom! Did you know Benzene can kill you?"

Emma paused on her way past her son's room. "Henry, stop googling. And yes, of course we knew that. That's why I'm stuck here with a woman who hates me, remember?"

Henry wrenched his eyes away from the screen and turned in his chair to face his mother. "You guys had a fight already? What did you do, Ma?"

"Why would you assume I was in the wrong?" Emma asked, indignant. But Henry just raised one eyebrow in a mannerism so similar to his other mother that Emma couldn't help but soften. "I called her Gina."

"Oh, yeah, she doesn't like that."

"Why not?"

"I think because you started it as a nickname? She asked Kat not to call her that a couple of months ago when she came over. Maybe it reminds her of you or something."

Emma leaned on the doorframe. "Urgh, I wish I didn't know that."

"Sorry, Ma. But now you know one more thing to avoid doing for the next few weeks. You know, it looks like we're going to be here for ages. Benzene is super bad. It causes cancer and stuff."

"Yeah, I know. And from the few minutes I just spent in the kitchen, it looks like it's going to be a long few weeks. Maybe I'll wrap my head in a wet towel and just make a run for it if it gets too much."

Henry laughed and then sobered up quickly. "No, Ma. You have to stay inside. It's not safe to go out. Just be nice to Mom. Don't piss her off -"

"Language, Henry."

"- and maybe she'll remember how much she loves you."

Emma sighed. "You're sweet, kid. Thanks. Oh, but can you please pick up your dirty clothes from the bathroom floor? You're such a slob." She waved the crumpled handful of clothes she had collected on the way down the landing.

Henry grinned and turned back to the computer, presumably to find out some more gruesome details about the dangers of Benzene.

The vegetables were already softened in a pan by the time Emma returned to the kitchen. Regina barely acknowledged her presence except to gesture to the uncapped beer which she'd removed from the larder and placed on the side.

"Thanks. Didn't know you had any of these here."

"I didn't throw them away," Regina replied, taking a sip from her own red wine. "That would have been a waste."

"Yeah and you never know when you're going to be trapped in quarantine for weeks on end with your wife, right?"

"Weeks on end?"

"That's what Henry reckons. I mean, I know he's not a scientist but he says this stuff is pretty nasty. He said it with glee on his face by the way. Do you think we should have him tested for psychopathic tendencies when this is all over?"

Despite herself, Regina chuckled. "He's an eleven-year-old boy. He's just curious and has a natural fascination with some of the uglier sides of human innovation. Unless he starts building an atom bomb in the shed, I think we're safe."

"Good to know," Emma replied. "Thanks for the clothes by the way. I've put a wash on."

"You're welcome."

Silence fell. Emma wanted to continue the conversation but wasn't sure which, if any, topics were safe at the moment. So instead she picked up her phone which had a small amount of charge now and began to read the latest news alerts about the chemical plant. Henry was right. They were going to be inside this house for a while.

Would that help her quest to get Regina back? Would this enforced quarantine be the opportunity she needed to show Regina how sorry she was and how much she wanted their marriage to work? Or would Regina grow to resent her even more than she already did? By the time this quarantine was over, Emma mused, they'd know one way or the other whether their marriage had any hope of a future.

A/N: I'm not a chemist! Like, at all! I Googled a lot and tried to find a toxic chemical which is dangerous but which hasn't recently been involved in an explosion. And, as I said, this is just the backdrop to what I want this story to be about – our ladies! Give me a little artistic license! And let's try and make the reviews for this story as positive as possible – we're all in this together and we don't need any more negativity in the world at the moment. Big love to all of you!