A/N: I have a paper due that makes up 20% of this year's grade, so naturally, updating fanfic has become a priority -_-
"Get off me. Now."
"Ow! Hey!"
Regina snaps as the blonde shoves at her roughly. Disorientated, she rolls compliantly onto her back with her hand cradled to her chest and her eyes squinted shut to adjust to the grey haze of the open sky.
"That was close."
Emma growls, and the brunette winces; every part of her being aching miserably as she pushes herself up to survey their surroundings. Tall fir trees surround a small clearing which she recognises once her headache begins to subside, and she realises it must have been her doing that they've ended up here; Emma's magic simply helping things along.
"It was, but we're still in one piece... Well..."
Regina inspects her hand with a grimace, feeling horribly nauseous when faced with the bone-deep wound to her finger and the resultant gore streaking her wrist. Closing her eyes as she heals the ugly laceration with a couple of pained twitches of her lips, she blinks tears from her lashes before glancing over her shoulder at the blonde.
"You didn't have to cut so deep, you know..."
She mutters irritably, looking the Sheriff up and down with an uneasy frown as she notes that the younger woman has clad herself in tight black leather. The fact that Emma has covered herself up comes as a great relief of course, but her formidable choice of attire doesn't seem especially promising.
Or, perhaps it does, and therein lies the issue...
"I didn't have to cut your finger at all. I could have chosen someplace much more fun."
Emma replies, eyes narrowed distrustfully as her attention darts from one tree to the next.
"I know... For a moment back there, I thought you were going to..."
The brunette confides as she looks down at her hand before tracing the thin blue line of the vein in her wrist.
"...Did you?"
She asks quietly, and Emma offers her a hard look, but no answer.
Uncomfortable as she finds the blonde's silence all too telling, Regina sighs and reaches for her jacket that the younger woman has left discarded in the dirt before pushing herself up onto her feet with a pained hiss.
"Why don't you sort yourself out? You're still hurt."
The blonde asks, and the Mayor has a suspicion that Emma takes extreme care to keep any note of concern from her voice.
It's a concerted effort though, isn't it, dear? You're angry, and I don't blame you, much as I fail to see why I'm bearing the brunt of your fury, but you've always cared for me. Even when I didn't deserve it, you cared about me... Something that's since been hard not to take to heart- to see as meaning something- when I know full well that it's not simply the way you're wired. It's always been personal. Whether in agitation or admiration, you've always been taken with me... That's how you put it that one time, out in my garden, helping yourself to my wine. Several glasses ahead of myself as is so often the case when Hook's been badgering you, or you've agreed to babysit your brother. The sun was turning red, and the comment slipped out without either of us saying any more about it... What would you have had me do though, dear? Ask you to elaborate? Express my sincerest regret for the time when that care wasn't reciprocated- when I despised you- before offering you the assurance of just how much you mean to me now?... We don't talk about those things- we've never talked about those things- because conversations of that nature have a tendency to go somewhere... For a friendship to become something else...
"I'm fine, just sore."
She replies quietly, before reaching out her hand to touch the blood smeared down the younger woman's jaw.
"What about you, though?"
"I can sort myself out, don't worry."
Emma bats her hand away irritably, before turning heel, and the Mayor frowns before calling her out.
"You have no idea where you're going, Miss Swan, so I would suggest storming off might not be in your best interests..."
"I-"
"-And don't tell me not to worry. Of course, I worry!... When I told you I didn't want to know what's been going on between you and that woman, it wasn't out of any lack of concern for you! It was fear."
"... Fear?"
"Yes! Fear. Disgust. Revulsion at the idea that anyone might treat you as a plaything! Let alone if that person happens to be some twisted version of myself!"
"Revulsion..."
Emma muses upon the term expressionlessly, and the brunette repeats what she has been insisting ever since being plunged into this chaos.
"For the last time, that woman isn't me, Emma. We share blood and an aesthetic likeness, and that's where it ends. So, yes, I feel revulsion. Just as I did when it turned out one of Zelena's pets had lured you into bed."
She states quietly. Boldly. And, when the younger woman offers her a murderous flash of her teeth, she stands her ground and repeats
"I don't like the idea of anyone toying with you, Miss Swan, because it's demeaning. It's crude."
"You toyed with me for the best part of a year..."
"Not like that, I didn't."
Regina snaps with colour high in her cheeks.
"No... But did you ever want to?"
The blonde asks with a small smirk that doesn't suit their conversation in the slightest so far as the darker woman is concerned. Still, she can see past Emma's baited response, and she senses a weight lingering behind what was presumably supposed to be a light stab at her defences.
Are you asking me that because you actually want the answer? The truth? Or are you just trying to push some of the discomfort you've recently been forced to feel onto me?
Unsure, she simply closes the distance between them and wipes again at the blonde's chin before showing the younger woman the blood staining her thumb.
"Not like that, I didn't."
She repeats firmly, aware that this does little to answer the question, but taking some small comfort from the way Emma's frown appears uncertain rather than hostile for a moment.
"Come on, we shouldn't stay out in the open."
She beckons, leading them through the trees with a sigh.
"I thought you said the woods were safe?"
"Safer than the castle, yes, but not indefinitely. I'd also rather not get caught in the rain that's threatening to get a lot heavier. I'm already dealing with a storm."
The brunette grumbles with a pointed look at her companion, and for a moment she's certain that she spies the beginnings of a grin, before Emma turns her attention to the sky and addresses grey clouds moodily.
"You're such a fucking Princess."
"Queen, actually."
"I-"
"-And I was being flippant. I've been through enough to get here to be able to cope with a little rain. I was trying to make light of things... Seeing as you're not fulfilling your usual role."
"You hate when I do that."
"Not really. I pretend to, because your reaction is generally amusing."
Regina admits, and again she spies a war of emotion raging behind cool glass. Opting for silence rather than pushing her luck, she simply leads them deeper into the woods to where the ground becomes uneven and hilly.
"Where are we going?"
Emma asks as the Mayor veers off to the left.
"Somewhere a little safer than running between the trees... At least, I hope so."
"But-"
"-The longer we remain out here, the more likely we are to be ratted out."
The darker woman elaborates, and she points towards a low branch occupied by two beady-eyed ravens.
"How's that? What do you mean?"
"She might ask them."
"The fucking birds?!"
"Yes."
"I... I mean, that's crazy."
"Is it? Is it any crazier than some of the other things you've read about me? That you've seen? Need I remind you what I accomplished in my time on the throne, Miss Swan? I wouldn't have come so far without a trick or two up my sleeve."
Regina halts in her tracks and turns on the younger woman with her palms splayed helplessly.
"... Are you proud?"
Emma asks coldly, raising a brow when she's offered an unlikely smile in response.
"You know, it's funny, dear..."
The brunette sighs with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"How's that?!"
"I probably would be. Not obnoxiously; I know the chaos I caused, and I've told you enough times that I regret it. My reign is still my legacy, though, and much as I've come to hate so many of my past decisions, I can't say in full honesty that I don't take some pride in my initiative and drive. Perhaps that's wrong of me, but you asked and I've answered... It's funny, because the part of me that feels that way has gone rogue, and now you've asked me how I feel about something, and the answer's there... But the feeling isn't. Evidently taking pride in mayhem is evil, and no longer part of my makeup."
"What's there instead?"
"... Nothing."
Regina replies with a final glance up at the birds before she leads them further.
Emma remains stood where she is, watching the darker woman retreat with a frown.
"Please come along, Miss Swan. I doubt I'm best placed to be telling you what to do right now, but I'm asking nicely, and your compliance benefits both of us."
The brunette urges as she looks over her shoulder upon realising that she no longer hears the younger woman's footsteps. She wonders for a moment if Emma means to argue with what she's just said, and grits her teeth uneasily as this really isn't the time. She almost opens her mouth to say so, but the blonde obeys her request without further coaxing; falling in step beside her as they trample through the undergrowth.
"...I don't think that's wrong of you."
Emma speaks up finally, and she keeps her gaze carefully focused on their surroundings as she senses dark eyes studying her intently.
"Really?"
"No. I never did. There's a lot of personality traits that irritate the shit out of me, and you certainly have some of them, but I never faulted you for your strength of resolve. I've been burned by it- by you- but that comes with the territory. I've always liked you for your drive, not in spite of it."
"... I can think of several times when that might not have been so true, dear."
"Yeah? Then why bring them up?"
"I-"
"-If you're referring to how things were in the beginning, I stand by what I said... You were impossibly maddening, but you were interesting with it at least."
"Is that so!?"
Regina lets out a surprised bark of laughter.
"I played your game, didn't I?"
"Unwillingly!... And it was hardly a game..."
"It was, though... I stayed. I became Sheriff in hopes of pissing you off. I indulged Henry in his fantasy world because it was obvious how much it annoyed you. Yes, I did a lot of that for him, but if it was just about Henry and what was best for him, I would have called in an outside psychiatrist that wasn't on your emotional pay-roll. I would have talked quite seriously with the kid about leaving Storybrooke, and the legality of that decision, and how his needs came before the imagined fate of the town... Obviously, with it turning out that The Curse actually existed, that makes me look like an irresponsible bitch, but I'd argue that logic was kind of on my side in thinking it was all bullshit... Incidentally, the fact that I didn't do any of those sensible things kind of makes me an irresponsible bitch also."
"... It wasn't exactly a situation you were prepared for."
"You've changed your tune! But, you're right. It wasn't... Things worked out the way they did partly because I was trying to blindly do the right thing, but also because I was invested in our little battle of wills. If I didn't respect you- however begrudgingly- I'd have walked away."
"If only I'd known!"
The brunette sighs with a dry smile.
"It wouldn't have changed anything... Respect is as important to you as it is to me. It would have bothered you too much to lower yourself to a place where you lost mine, whether you cared for me or not. Same as you wanted it from your subjects whether you cared for them or not... I can think all sorts of things about the shit you did as Queen, but I can't fault you for wanting respect and taking pride in your hard work."
Emma shrugs.
"I-"
"-But, none of that matters if you feel nothing."
The blonde finishes with an air of cold finality, and Regina winces as Emma slams the door shut on any further conversation. Looking to her side and studying the Sheriff morosely, she considers the vast difference between the woman she'd shared breakfast with only a few days ago, and the result of her darker half's torment.
"I feel plenty."
She assures quietly, and it's a notion that hits painfully true as they crest a small hill and find themselves looking down at an old cottage.
"Come on. There's a small mirror mounted above the hearth, but if we keep to the kitchen area, we should be fine. Everything else is ceramic, stone or wood."
She beckons for Emma to follow her, before stopping in her tracks when the blonde bends down to pick up a rock.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to break the mirror."
"No, you're not!"
Regina snaps angrily, her heart aching at the very thought, but she opts for a more logical response as she reasons irritably
"If you smash a mirror, you end up with a hundred mirrors! A hundred windows to spy through!"
"... Oh."
Emma frowns a little sheepishly, supposing that this makes sense and dropping the rock with a sullen glance at the Mayor.
"Each fragment would allow her a chance to find us."
Regina elaborates in a gentler tone, and she begins making her way carefully down the slope towards the cottage; roots and loose debris impeding her path.
"We'll cloak it then."
The blonde decides as she follows the darker woman's lead with a great deal less interest in where she treads.
"No."
Regina shakes her head.
"No? What do you mean, no? Why not?"
"Because she knows it's there. If we obscure the glass, we're practically inviting her to find us."
"You really think she's going to remember every fucking shiny surface in the kingdom? She's a bitch, not a magpie."
"... She'll remember this one."
The brunette snaps with a warning glower for the younger woman to accept what she's been told and bite her tongue, and she makes her way down the overgrown path towards the door. Gathering herself as she lays her palm against the handle, she wills the lock to yield to her bidding and lets herself in.
"Don't touch anything."
She warns as the younger woman follows her into the dusty tomb of the past.
"I thought you said we were safe so long as we stayed away from the mirror?"
Emma frowns.
"We are, I hope, but I'd still like you to do as I've asked."
Regina replies as she closes the door before turning back to take in her surroundings. She offers the blonde a small nod when the latter gestures towards one of the two wooden chairs placed either side of a tall barrel used as a table, and takes her seat on the other with a heavy sigh.
"What is this place?"
Emma asks as she considers the minimal decor pensively.
"Daniel's house."
"Oh..."