The brunette bends down to collect her son's book which had tumbled, forgotten, to the floor a few hours earlier following her plea for understanding from the blonde. She tests its weight in her hands pensively before looking up from the ornate cover to regard the Sheriff with a small smirk.
She had finally managed to force Emma into the shower as insisted, but had remained politely outside the door; perching on the bed with a tired yawn. She had reckoned on the blonde wishing to clean herself off scrupulously following her ordeal with the pawnbroker, and had been intuitively aware that the younger woman might not want an audience while doing so. She had begun to worry just a little as the minutes ticked steadily by, but eventually the pounding of the water and the hum of the pipes had ceased, before finally Emma had reappeared to lean in the doorway; skin flushed an angry red, her face curiously pale. Cracking a wide yawn, the blonde had rested her head against the doorframe until Regina had instructed her firmly to go back to bed.
Which is where she lies now, with her hair tangled and sodden, hiding her face, and her pale limbs drawn in close and clad in one of Henry's larger t-shirts. The Queen sighs. She had padded into her son's room- following Emma's raised eyebrow at the satin nightdress held out to her- and fetched the younger woman one of his tops without even thinking on it.
And now that she is thinking on it... She finds she's... Well, she's okay with it.
And logically, why shouldn't she be? All of the poisonous bickering and proclamation from either side of "he's my son" had been the result of a fear that the boy should be taken away by the other.
She doesn't think Emma's going anywhere.
Not now. Not after all that's happened.
The subject of Henry still makes her uneasy, but she finds that rather than the hateful anger she had tried to banish when she had first started caring for the blonde, she feels only a quiet nervousness. Perching on the edge of the bed, she brushes damp curls from the blonde's face- rolling her eyes as she imagines the knotted nightmare that will result in the Sheriff having forgotten to pull a comb through them- and smirks when the younger woman doesn't react in the slightest to the intrusion; sound asleep.
Mary Margaret smiles as she ascends gently from sleep. It is a curious thing to have Charming slumbering beside her, but it is a beautiful thing more than anything else. She kisses his bare shoulder lightly before slipping quietly from beneath the sheets and padding out into the living room. Grinning as she spots Henry curled up in the overstuffed armchair- the hazy morning light illuminating his face as he sleeps soundly- she allows herself a moment's thought on just how blessed she is with how things have turned out.
She has her Charming, her daughter, her grandson.
She's finally won.
She resists the urge to climb up the iron steps to the blonde's bedroom, knowing that despite the change in herself, Emma remains much the same, and is neither a morning person nor one to appreciate the brimming wealth of emotions she wishes to bestow upon her. The notion appears moot anyway, as she spots a scrap of paper lying on the large dining room table.
MM,
Regina called about trouble. Have gone to check it out.
E x
The schoolteacher frowns down at her housemate's note for what feels like a long time. She is pleasantly surprised that Emma has had the courtesy to leave her one at all; the Sheriff more often than not forgetting that she has a friend who worries for her.
A mother that worries for her.
Not only has the blonde taken a second to leave her the scrap of messy scrawl, but she feels a sweet hum of happiness as her eyes flicker repeatedly back to the small x that finishes the note. She can count the times Emma has ended her texts or messages with a kiss on one hand, and the fact that she should do so now, after the tension between them the previous evening, is not something the raven headed woman will shrug away lightly.
My little girl...
She thinks back to Emma grumbling at her for calling her this- the blonde stating moodily that she was of a larger size than the schoolteacher herself- and shakes her head in bemusement. It brings her back to the subject of the note however, and she feels a regretful twinge of disquiet low down in her stomach.
She hasn't quite gotten her head around Emma and Regina... Well... Yes... And wonders if she ever will. She feels what she knows is an immature sense of irritation at the blonde that she should pick the Queen of all people to bond with. It suits the younger woman's contrary character beautifully, but she finds it hard to see the amusing side to such irony.
"Oh, Emma, why would you go over there alone now that she has magic..."
She scolds herself unhappily for such thoughts- and isn't it curious that it is in the Sheriff's lower tone she does this- taking a resigned seat at the table and fidgeting with the note with a sigh. Despite everything that has happened between Regina and herself- the Queen and herself- she knows she is wrong to think such a thing. The brunette saved her daughter. She had saved her and she had fretted over her and she had cried over her.
And she had kissed her.
She had kissed her when she must have known doing so might break the curse... And the curse could only have broken if the love was true on either side...
Emma loves her.
No. Emma loved her.
But what now? Now that the curse has broken?
She sighs, wondering what in the world David will make of all this when she tells him, but she is wise enough in herself to know that love is not something that ebbs and fades quite in time with the pleasures and hardships of life. Especially for one as stubborn as the Sheriff.
She loves her.
And she supposes that's why she isn't halfway to the Queen's mansion right now with her heart bursting with fear for the blonde. She does feel a small amount of dread, and she does feel the uncomfortable urge to drag her daughter back home where she can keep an eye on her, but she chalks both of these notions down to maternal instinct.
How curious, to be able to say that...
Regina will not harm the blonde.
Which just begs the question of what 'trouble' has come to pass.
She imagines she has a good idea just what trouble the Evil Queen could find herself in.
There is something alarmingly, well, homely about the situation the blonde finds herself in, and she struggles to swallow her cereal as her throat closes up with ingrained fear at the notion. Winning the battle with her Cheerios, she sucks on the tip of her spoon thoughtfully as she studies Regina across the table.
The brunette has her dark eyes cast down to her plate where she cuts up a honeydew melon into small, bite-sized pieces, her thick hair slightly mussed and looking disarmingly pretty in a simple cream blouse. Feeling the Sheriff's curious gaze upon her, she looks up and offer's the younger woman a small smile as she holds out an offering of sweet fruit.
"Thanks."
She nods, bringing a piece of melon to her own lips and tasting it pensively. They have said little to one another since the blonde had awoken and stated she was 'hungry enough to eat her own hands', but it has not been an uncomfortable silence, and her smile widens as she continues to study hellishly tousled hair and pale, bare features over her son's faded navy t-shirt.
"So, uh... Are we going to put Mr Gold in jail or something?"
"Is that what you want?"
"I... I don't know... I don't really know what to think or what makes sense anymore. I mean, he's like a wizard, right? Won't he be able to get out?"
Regina smiles pleasantly, nodding in agreement as she feels a peculiar sense of amused adoration that the Sheriff should speak of their predicament with the little understanding she has of the ways of magic.
"Correct, dear."
"Then why..."
"Why cuff him to the bed?"
"Yeah."
"I suppose as a form of retribution. Rumplestiltskin is many things, but not one of those is dim-witted. The parallel of regaining consciousness in such a position and what he did to you will not be lost on him. He is a dangerous man, dear, as you well know, but... I am dangerous too... And it's not just me, don't forget."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, if it were a case of simply going up against me, then he would likely have little issue... But in doing so he goes up against you... And your mother and father... These people, Emma, the people of Storybrooke, I brought them here to... to suffer. They were your parent's people. They will take great issue with Gold if he were to go up against their royalty. He is powerful, but so is the anger of the masses."
"So... What do we do?"
"If you want him incarcerated then there are ways to do so... They aren't easy, and they are time consuming, so we may find ourselves in danger... Unfortunately, we can't just rid ourselves of him, you see. He is the Dark One."
"You mean kill him? We're not killing him, Regina!"
"... No... But after what he did to you..."
"I... Look, help me understand something. Everyone I knew before the curse broke... They make sense, you know?"
"I'm not following you."
"Like, Mary Margaret is Snow White. In all the stories of Snow White, she's kind and loved and charitable and stuff. Mary Margaret is like that too... And Granny, and Ruby, and David... They all kind of 'fit'. Will Gold?"
"How do you mean?"
"Will Rumplestiltskin possess the same qualities as Gold?"
"It is different with him, dear, for it appears the curse never affected him."
"Then they're the same! Just... Now he has his powers or whatever. But they're the same person."
"I suppose... Why?"
"Well... I kind of liked Gold... And I think he liked me..."
"What on earth do you mean by that?"
The brunette's voice is hard and stony, and the Sheriff quickly goes on to try and explain herself.
"I mean that he and I had a mutual... Tolerance... For each other."
"I see... I presume this is before he drugged you, kidnapped you and cuffed you pretty much naked to a bed? Hmm?"
"Regina..."
"No, no, continue, I'm dying to know where this is all going, dear!"
"...Just for the record, I asked him to take my dress off because I was fucking burning up and not thinking straight... My point is... He went to all that trouble, because of this deal he wanted me to fulfill."
"So?"
"So... I want to know what he wants."
"Why?"
"Because, whatever it is made him desperate enough to do what he did."
"Emma! He did what he did because he's a monster! He's the Dark One! He-"
"-I know! But what harm does it do to ask?"
"... You want to find Gold... The Dark One... And ask him how you could be of service!?"
"Yup."
"... Unbelievable."
Regina shakes her head, spreading her fingers out before her in irritable despair as the Sheriff regards her awkwardly.
"I just... If we can nip this in the bud and give him what he wants then... Well... Maybe he'll leave us alone. And, Regina... I love you, and I'm sitting here with you eating a bowl of fucking Cheerios, despite everything I know... Maybe Gold has some good in him too."
"Oh God..."
"I'm not being stupid!"
"No... You're being your mother."
"Oh, shut up, I-"
The blonde is saved from whatever punishment these words would garner her as a loud rap at the front door echoes into the kitchen. Furious latin eyes flash suddenly with fear and the Sheriff bites her lip as she pushes herself from the table warily.
"Are you going to get that?"
Emma whispers, having moved so that she stands close to the brunette; her expression grave and her jaw clenched. Regina regards her nervously for a second before sighing and walking slowly towards the door.
"I can't hide in the house forever."
"Do you want me to get it?"
"Miss Swan... You are clad in my son's t-shirt and a pair of my lace panties, I don't think you getting the door is going to be giving off the right message, do you?"
"I'm just trying to help."
"I know, dear... I know."
Coming to a halt a little way from the door, the brunette raises her voice and barks authoritatively.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
"Answer me."
The Queen places a hand warningly at the blonde's elbow as the latter moves to stand in front of her.
"Answer me, who's there!?"
"... It's me..."
Recognizing the voice instantly, the brunette shares a cautious glance with the Sheriff before moving towards the door.
"I suggest you go get your jeans, dear."