A/N: Sorry this is so late, guys! When you work at a medical school in the public health department during a pandemic, everything else gets put on hold. The last 3.5 weeks have been nuts as we prepped for the inevitable. I hope everyone is staying healthy.


19. Emma: Day 97 (continued)

Emma doesn't know what to make of things. Regina has barely said three words to her since she rang the Mills' doorbell earlier that evening, and now as they have finished helping Zelena put away all the remnants of their movie snacks, the awkward silence continues.

"I'll show you upstairs," Regina says, pushing herself off from where she's been leaning against the counter and watching Emma toss out the unpopped popcorn kernels. "You'll be staying in my room," she mutters as they swing through the foyer so Emma can grab her suitcase.

"I figured as much," she comments. God, she thinks, this was all such a bad idea. It's getting complicated and messy and she hates it — she hates when things get messy.

"Home sweet home," Regina rolls her eyes as she gestures for Emma to walk through the door. "After you."

Emma walks in as requested and sets her luggage down against the wall, looking around the room that she knows had once been Regina's childhood bedroom. The walls are a dark lilac, and upon closer inspection she can see the leftover marks from the tape that she imagines once held up posters of boy bands. "Regina…"

"Not tonight, Emma," she says, really meeting Emma's eyes for the first time all night. It's just for a moment, because she starts fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater as though it's itchy on her skin. "It's been a really long day."

Emma decides to spare her. "I wasn't going to bring up that," she says, throwing her a bone. "I was just going to ask if you're okay with sharing the bed or if you'd rather I sleep on that couch over there," she says, gesturing to a small beige loveseat under the windows.

"Oh," the brunette sighs in relief. "Um, no, it's fine. You can sleep in the bed," she says, walking over and starting to pull back the covers. "Besides, my sister seems to suspect something is up and already has no sense of boundaries, so there's a very strong likelihood that she will barge in unannounced, so we can't take any chances."

"Okay," Emma says, not sure if she's relieved by Regina's answer or not. She chooses to take it as a good sign that she's not being kicked out of the bed. "I'm going to go brush my teeth…"

"The bathroom is right through there," Regina says, pointing to a door to her left. "It's a shared bathroom with Zelena's room, so make sure you lock the door on the other side, too. Like I said, she has no boundaries."

Emma chuckles. "Good to know."

When she returns a few minutes later, Regina is already under the covers, a book of poetry in her hands and tortoiseshell glasses resting gently on the bridge of her nose. Emma smiles despite herself at how cute the brunette looks. She says nothing as she makes her way toward the bed, shuffling under the covers and trying not to read too much into it when Regina subconsciously shifts over to give her more space.

"Goodnight," Emma says as she lays down and rolls onto her side, her back facing her bedmate.

"Goodnight, Emma," Regina says. "I'll be done reading in a few minutes and will turn off the light then.

"No hurry," she smiles over her shoulder before turning back to face the wall with the windows. Even with the soft light on in the room, she can still see the stars through the windows, and it makes her remember her own childhood growing up in Maine. They don't have skies like this in Los Angeles.

*.*.*

"Emma, where are we?" Regina asks, taking off her blindfold as Emma parks the car in the gravel lot.

She smiles as she opens her own door and looks over at the confused woman in the passenger seat. "Come on, get out and I'll show you."

The morning had been just as awkward as the night before, and Emma's sick of it. She had decided that it was time for them to talk once and for all, but that thought had also been terrifying to her. So, she had decided to take Regina to the one place she has always felt safe.

She doesn't look behind her to see if Regina is following, because she knows the stubborn woman will be. After all, she had agreed to go on a surprise field trip with Emma earlier that morning and had agreed to wear a blindfold, so there wasn't any way Regina wouldn't be seeing this through. So, Emma keeps walking through the open field to the picnic table, and she smiles when she sees it hasn't changed. The wood is more splintered than it used to be, but it's still there. Before she can sit down, she rushes over to the playground a few feet away, unable to resist the beckoning of the monkey bars. She doesn't need to jump to reach them anymore, just standing on the balls of her feet is enough for her fingertips to comfortable grasp the cool metal. The next thing she knows, muscle memory kicks in and she's flipping upside down and then pulling herself up until she's sitting on top of them.

"Emma Swan, what the hell are you doing?" she hears Regina's voice call from a dozen feet away. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Relax, no I'm not," she says, kicking her legs as she rests on top of the bars.

"Well, then you're going to get covered with germs. God only knows how many kids have been on there with their unwashed hands."

She rolls her eyes. "It's the end of December, Regina…it's freezing. There haven't been any kids on here in at least a month," she points out, but she obliges and flips herself back down until she's safely on the ground.

"Yes, it is freezing," Regina says, walking up to meet her. "So, why are we at a playground in the middle of Maine in the middle of winter?"

"This is where I grew up," she says. "We're in Bangor."

"Oh," Regina says, looking around and the realization hitting her.

"Or, it's where I spent the last handful of years of my childhood, anyway."

"You said you lived here for all of high school, right?"

"Yeah," she says, leading Regina over to the picnic table and taking a seat. Regina surprises her by sitting next to her instead of across the table. "I moved in with Mary-Margaret and David — my last foster parents — in the middle of eighth grade. I lived with them until I turned 18."

"You said they moved away right after you graduated, right? So they're not still in Bangor?"

"They moved, yeah," Emma nods. "I have no idea where they live now, but it's just as well."

"I know you said you weren't close," Regina recalls from one of their earlier conversations.

"We weren't. They were pretty young – only like 30 when they took me in, so they weren't really ever like 'parents.' They were both pretty religious and had done missionary work, so I think taking me in was some kind of continuation of that. But, they gave me a place to live, so it was fine, and I was appreciative. After the Olympics they tracked me down and sent me a few letters, but at that point I didn't want to talk to them anyway," Emma says, clearing her throat. "But anyway, I didn't bring you here to talk about them."

"So why did you bring me here?"

"This was my favorite place as a teenager," Emma explains. "My friends and I used to sneak over here after the park closed for the day to drink a few beers or smoke cigarettes or pot or whatever someone was able to steal from one of their parents or older brothers. And over there," Emma says, pointing toward the huge grassy area, "is where I first learned to play soccer."

"Really?" Regina asks, seeming to be genuinely interested in Emma's story.

"Yep. After I figured out I had a natural talent for it in gym class, the assistant coach arranged some practice sessions here with the captain of the team to run drills so I could get up to speed."

"That was nice of her."

"Yeah," Emma sighs.

"What?" Regina asks, looking at Emma curiously.

"That captain was actually my first girlfriend. Lily."

"Oh, really?" Regina teases.

She rolls her eyes. "And actually," she starts, before sliding off the picnic bench and ducking her head under the table. "Yep, it's still there."

"What is?"

Emma motions for Regina to look under the table, and that's where she points out the faded white heart with the initals 'ES + LP' painted on the underside of the table top. "Emma Swan + Lily Page."

"Oh wow," Regina laughs, pushing herself back up onto the bench. "It must have been true love to immortalize it like that."

"It was," Emma says. "At least at the time."

"What happened with her?"

"My foster parents found out. They weren't too pleased," Emma admits. "They told me to end it or they would kick me out."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Emma," Regina says sincerely.

"Yeah. So, I broke up with her. I couldn't risk getting sent back into the system. At that point I had potential college scholarships lined up for soccer, and I couldn't take the chance that something would interfere with that. College soccer was my only way out. But, it sucked. I really loved her."

"And you never got to see Lily again? Not even after you graduated?"

"No," Emma shakes her head. "She went to college in Florida, and then I found out a few years later she had fallen in with a bad crowd and died of an overdose."

"Shit," Regina says again. "God, Emma, I had no idea. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that," she says, taking Emma's hand under the table.

Emma wipes a single tear away with her thumb. "Yeah, well, it's in the past."

"Still. I admire your resilience. I really mean that," she says, gently squeezing the hand in hers.

"Thanks," she says, meeting Regina's eyes. "What?" she asks when she notices a shift in Regina's expression.

The brunette shakes her head "Nothing."

"No, tell me," Emma says. But before she can say anything else, she feels Regina's lips against her own. It's not heated, but it's sweet and comforting. She realizes how much she's missed this, and that's exactly why she has to stop it. "Regina," she says, breaking the kiss and pushing her away just enough to give herself some space. "There's no one here to see us," she says, mostly to remind herself of the situation and that this isn't real.

"I know. I don't care," Regina says, cupping her jaw in her hand and leaning in again.

Emma gives in, lets herself be kissed and happily reciprocates when she feels Regina's tongue gliding against her own. It isn't until she feels Regina's hand sliding up her thigh that she pulls back yet again. "No, Regina, stop."

"What?"

"We need to talk about what happened in New York," Emma says, standing up from the bench and taking a few steps to put more physical distance between them.

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what to say, Emma."

"Well, try me," Emma demands.

"I was drunk. I wasn't thinking straight," Regina starts.

"Yeah there's a lot about you that wasn't 'straight' that night."

Regina rolls her eyes. "I was caught up in the moment, and it had been awhile."

Emma sighs in frustration, but she had known that was likely the case. She had been deluding herself to think it may have been anything different. "If that was just scratching an itch, then okay," Emma says. "I'm more than happy to be of service. But in that case, what the hell was that kiss just now?"

"I don't know," Regina answers softly.

"I need to know what's going on, Regina. If you're confused, I get it. If you're just horny as hell and needed someone to get you off, I get it. Believe me. I've been there. But I need some sort of road map here. If this is all just you going full-on character-method for this 'role' we're playing, then that's fine, but I need you to tell me that. It's hard for me to discern what's fake and what may not be, especially when you do things like kiss me when there aren't any cameras or other people around. It's messing with my head."

Emma sees that Regina is about speak, but she quickly cuts her off. She realizes that she may have said too much, so she quickly back peddles. "That hasn't been part of this arrangement before, so if you're changing the approach on me midstream, let me know. I need to know what your angle is so I can make sure I match it. We need to be on the same page here."

Emma notices that Regina's face falls after her addendum, but she isn't sure what to make of it. "Fuck, Emma, I…"

"What?"

"Nevermind. We have to get back for my mom's stupid Christmas party," Regina says, turning around and walking back toward their rental car.

"Fine, but this conversation isn't over," Emma says, stomping after Regina.

Regina sighs as she waits for Emma to unlock the car door. "No, I imagine it's not."

*.*.*

"Can I have some of that?" Regina asks as she rejoins Emma at a highboy table set up in the middle of a city hall conference room, which the staffers have attempted to turn into a festive party room for the evening.

"Have at it," she says, handing over the gin and tonic she's been nursing.

"I can't believe they only have one bar set up. The line is insanely long."

"That, dear sis, is exactly why you bring your own," Zelena says as she and her fiancé barge into their conversation. "Vodka, anyone?" she says, producing a flask from her handbag.

"Sometimes, you're a godsend," Regina replies, giving Emma her drink back as she takes the stainless steel flask from her sister and takes a long sip directly from it.

"Put that away," Cora's voice scolds as she lurks behind them, causing all four of them to jump in surprise. "I cannot believe your brought a flask, Regina."

"It's not mine," she says reflexively, shoving it back toward Zelena.

The redhead rolls her eyes as she gladly takes it back, taking an exaggerated swig as she does so. "And I cannot believe you didn't supply more alcohol and more bartenders, Mummy," Zelena points out. "But alas, here we are. At least one of us was prepared for the party."

"Cora, there you are," Henry says as he joins them, stopping to quickly kiss each of his daughters on the cheek in greeting.

"Have you heard from George?" Cora asks her husband.

"Yes, he just called," Henry confirms. "Their plane was rerouted to Boston due to the snow, but he said he should be able to make it up tomorrow morning."

"Ugh. It's just like him to ruin things," Cora complains.

"Cora, he can't control the weather. It's fine. You can still get a photo op for Christmas. It doesn't need to be tonight," Henry reminds her.

"I'm lost," Emma whispers to Regina. "Who is George?"

"My mom's older brother," Regina answers. "He got remarried last year and he's bringing his new wife, her kids, and her new grandkids up to meet everyone. My mom thinks it will be a good photo opportunity, because the polls are showing that she doesn't seem like a 'warm' person."

"You don't say," Emma comments before she can think twice.

Regina just laughs. "She thinks using her brother's step-grandkids in a photo will give her the family-friendly charm to win over the last of the voters. It's not like Mal Draco is a ray of sunshine, but compared to my mother, she's basically Mother Teresa."

"Glad to see we're not the only ones she's using for her image," Emma mutters under her breath so only Regina can hear.

"She basically only sees the value in family if they can be used to get her ahead," Regina shrugs. "Nothing she does surprises me anymore."

"Regina, Emma," Cora says, drawing their attention back to the matriarch. "It would behoove you to go make small talk with people here instead of sulking at this table. Perhaps some sweet photos can come out of it," she says before walking away.

"Duty calls," Regina says, stepping back from the table and reaching for Emma's hand. "It's show time. Time to parade around like prized cattle."

*.*.*

"Alright, it's posted," Emma says as she closes out of Instagram and sets her phone down on the nightstand. They had Zelena take a photograph of them under the mistletoe at the Christmas party, and it's a sickeningly cute picture — perfect for their cause.

The rest of the night had gone relatively smoothly, as they had managed to put their earlier argument aside and play up their relationship for everyone in attendance, quickly falling back into the ease with which they've been playing the part for the past few months. They had also made sure to get in the background of photos taken by campaign staffers and other family members. That way, other people would post the pictures and it would seem far more natural and believable. They even intentionally staged an overly affectionate conversation in the background of a picture Zelena had been posing in with her fiancé, knowing that Zelena would post it all over social media, with Regina and Emma conveniently in the background in an embrace of their own.

"Can I turn out the light or are you going to read a bit first?" Emma asks, looking over at the brunette next to her."

"I'm too tired to read, so you can go ahead," she says.

Emma nods as she reaches over and shuts off the bedside lamp, settling down into the mattress. She's just about to drift off to sleep when she feels Regina move closer, rolling onto her side and tentatively inching toward her, gently reaching out and placing her hand on Emma's bicep.

"It's been a long day," Regina says softly, and although Emma can't see her in the dark, she can feel Regina's gaze staring at her. "Is this okay? I mean, I know this is probably sending you all kinds of mixed signals, and I don't want to make this hard for you, but I could use some cuddling," Regina says, and the vulnerability and insecurity in her voice breaks Emma's heart just a little bit. "This is me trying to communicate with you about my intentions," she adds, a hint of snark in her tone.

Emma rolls her eyes, but it's dark, so she knows Regina can't see it. "Come here," she says, opening her arms wider to give Regina the space to shuffle closer.

"Thank you," she says shyly, pressing her nose into Emma's neck.

Emma tries to ignore how well they fit together. She's just a friend helping out a friend.