It felt like hours that they waited for Regina's return, though in reality it was probably only a few minutes. She sat there, bouncing her leg under the table, tapping her fingers on the table. Her stomach was in knots, and her heart thudded in her chest.

What if they didn't get along? What if they couldn't fill the silence?

What if her mother was horrible? That was unlikely, given the vibe Emma had gotten from her off of the photos. But, still - what if she didn't like Emma? What if this cursed version of Emma wasn't the person she was expecting to see?

What if...she changed her mind?

What if she didn't want Emma?

There it was, that deep seated fear that guided Emma's every action in life.

"Mom."

Henry quieted her thoughts with just that word, and his hand resting on her upper arm. Letting out a breath, she covered his hand with her own and squeezed.

"It's going to be fine," He reassured her.

She shot him a grateful glance. "Isn't this supposed to be the other way around? Me comforting you?"

Henry shrugged. "You looked like you needed it."

Emma smiled to herself, musing not for the first time in the last few days about how mature he was becoming. It turned out that she didn't have nearly as much to do with that as she thought, but she was grateful for it all the same.

"You're right. I did." She blew out a breath. She'd been so confident - well, more confident than she thought she'd be - in insisting to Regina that she was ready, but now, faced with the reality of it, she wasn't so sure. She sat back in her seat, tucking her legs up on the chair with her. "What do you think she's going to be like?"

Henry gave a little hmm and then slipped out of his seat, making his way over to the coffee table where Emma had left the stack of family photos after Regina's original visit this morning. He brought them back to the kitchen, setting them out one by one, sectioning off the ones that contained Mary Margaret and studying them. "I don't know," He finally said, face twisting in a little scowl that Emma was sure she'd seen on Regina at some point. "She seems...nice." It was all he said, but his eyes remained locked onto one of the photos. Emma watched as he picked it up and studied it more closely, but he didn't say anything.

"Nice?" Emma prompted. "That's all you've got?"

He shrugged, offering her a smile. "Yeah. Nice." He set the picture down, and Emma peered over at it: the one in front of the well. That made sense. It was the one that Emma had been drawn to as well. "She just seems...I don't know. Warm. Friendly."

He tilted his head, observing once again, and Emma was inclined to agree with him. She thought back to the sappy feelings that had flooded her when she'd first found the images. Warm was one way to put it. Another was...painful. Yearning. That photo was so...sappy, and yet. Emma wanted to know the people in it, she realized.

That, and she wanted to love like that. She drew in a deep breath, for a moment letting her mind wander and entertain thoughts of what it would be like to be so completely wrapped up in another person. She knew that she and Regina had had a relationship, but as far as she'd gathered it hadn't been...serious? No, that was wrong - she'd felt her own longing in that memory of the town line, had heard the whispered I love yous more than once. No, what they'd had had been serious, there was no doubt there.

It just hadn't been...public. Official.

She nearly caught Regina's wrist, pulled her back, let her know -

It was like a memory from a dream, an echo of her past that didn't feel real. And yet, she still felt the guilt, the longing -

More than anything, she wanted the chance to make that moment right.

"Do you think that's your dad?" Henry asked, and Emma jumped out of her thoughts. She peered over to find Henry pointing at the blonde man, whose arms were wrapped so tightly around her mother.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, Regina said that's him. Your grandpa, I guess." She reached out, taking the photo from the counter and tracing her fingers over the forms for a moment before she pointed at them. "She said his name is David. Hers is Mary Margaret."

"Huh. Regina mentioned her before, didn't she?" Henry frowned. "Weird name. Fits, I guess."

Emma gave a little chuckle. She hadn't really thought about it, but he was right. The names seemed perfectly suited to them, even if her only reference was a few still photos. "I guess it does." With that she sighed, standing up to put on another pot of coffee.

"Mom, you know they can't eat or drink here, right? You don't have to play hostess."

Emma hummed. "This is for me, kid. I haven't been sleeping well lately. Too much on my mind, I guess."

"That's understandable, mom."

She shrugged. Tell that to my boss, she thought, but bit back the words. She didn't need Henry worrying about her keeping her job - not ever, but especially not on top of everything he was already going through. Besides, if all went well, their family would find a way back to them and they would...what? Move? Go back to Storybrooke?

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. On the one hand, something about the idea felt...comforting. Like returning home - and that made sense in the context of all Regina had told her. For fuck's sake, she was longing for a town she'd never even seen, but she'd be damned if she didn't want to go back with every fiber of her being.

But could she ask Henry to do that?

He'd say yes in a heartbeat. That much she knew for certain - he'd so vehemently defended Regina's title as his mother, even having only met her the night before, and he was growing more and more attached to the idea of her story, of Storybrooke, every minute that passed. But at the end of the day he was a teenager, still a child, and...could he really comprehend what that meant?

They'd moved around several times, sure. They'd only been in New York four years - had moved into this apartment two years ago, but Henry hadn't had to switch schools. This place felt more permanent than any other they'd been in.

Emma herself didn't have much built here in New York - most of her life revolved around herself and Henry. Sure, she had a couple of half-hearted friends, some acquaintances, and her job - but nothing that really tethered her. Henry, on the other hand...he was doing really well here. He had friends, lots of them. Before this had all happened, he'd even been talking about joining a writing club. He went ice skating with his friends every Saturday, had a little friend that Emma suspected might be a crush - could she really ask him to give all that up and start over? Could she really drag him to another school in the middle of the year?

God, did they even have proper schools in Storybrooke? They had to, right?

...Except it was a magical town, that was now destroyed, and god, Emma really didn't know the first thing about it, did she?

The timer beeped on the coffee maker and she jumped, pulled back to reality by the harsh noise. She pulled the pot out and began to pour it into her mug, and -

A whoosh of purple smoke, bigger than any they'd seen yet, flooded through the dining room. The edges of it made their way into the kitchen, licking at Emma's feet, and she nearly dropped the coffee pot as she jumped away from them on instinct. The liquid splashed over the rim, cascading over the counter and rolling down the front of her cabinets.

"Jesus," She hissed, stumbling back to avoid the spill. She set the pot back onto the counter and reached for the roll of paper towels she kept off to the side.

"You're just playing with fire at this point, Emma."

She shook her head, looking up at the sound of that unmistakable, husky voice to find Regina, staring at the mess she'd made with one part concern and one part amusement.

Emma shook her head, mopping up the spill. "I told you I'd get some coffee and we could try again." She chucked the soiled towels into her garbage and turned, offered Regina a lopsided smile. But beneath it, her heart was racing. Her eyes slid over to the woman next to Regina.

She was taller than Emma had been expecting. She was nearly as tall as Emma herself, and, Emma suspected, as Regina would be without her heels. David must be tall, then, Emma thought. Still, something about Mary Margaret made her appear tiny - maybe it was her slender frame. Maybe it was the way she smiled, or the way she held herself.

Tiny, but powerful, Emma noted.

Something about her exuded confidence - that hadn't come through in the photographs. Sure, that warmth still radiated from her, but she also got the impression that this was a woman who could endure. A woman who loved hard, and who would protect all that was hers with an unexpected ferocity, who would pour everything she had into keeping those around her safe.

Emma blinked, wondering how much of that was actually a first impression, and how much of it was memory.

She looked different than she had in the photos - her face was a little fuller, and her hair was much, much longer, for one. It fell around her in frizzy waves, tied back at the top in a knot that was decorated with tiny white flowers.

Mary Margaret glanced between them - eyes lingering on Emma and then moving on to Henry. She was grinning, round face flushed, and there were definite tears brimming in her eyes. She reached up and wiped at them with her thumb, and Regina offered her a soft smile, reaching out to lay a supportive hand on her upper arm. Mary Margaret raised her own to cover Regina's.

"Emma. Henry," She said, and then she broke.

Her face crumpled, and Regina gathered the other woman up in her arms. Mary Margaret buried her face into Regina's shoulder, and Regina shot them both glances that were somewhere between concerned and apologetic. Emma had the feeling that Regina was afraid of scaring them off, but she didn't want to interrupt to communicate that she wasn't going anywhere. She attempted to do it with her eyes alone, and judging by the appreciative smile Regina gave her, she understood.

"Do you need a minute?" Regina murmured, and Mary Margaret shook her head.

She backed away from Regina, sniffing and wiping at her face with a cloth that seemed to appear out of nowhere. "No, no. I'm okay. I'm okay." She drew in a shaky breath, and then turned back to Emma. "I'm sorry. I told myself I wasn't going to cry, but..." She shook her head, taking a step forward. Emma didn't move. The urge to flee reared its ugly head in the back of her mind, but she fought against it. A bigger part of her...a much larger part, she noted, wanted to know this woman. And so instead, she kept her back against the counter. "Seeing you again, here in front of me...it just, I don't know. It really hit me."

"That's okay," Emma breathed, even though she wasn't quite sure if it was. She understood, at the very least. There was an ache in her chest, a wistful, longing, throbbing ache that had been triggered by the other woman's presence. It was stifling, and suddenly that voice screamed at her to run again, urged her to take her son and duck out of the apartment and leave all of this talk of mothers and alternate universes behind.

An equally insistent part of herself was thrilled. She drew in a deep breath to steady herself, and then took a step towards this woman who was apparently her mother.

"So," She began. "You're my mom."

A laugh bubbled up from Mary Margaret's throat, a sad, choked kind of thing that was thickened by her tears, but it was laughter nonetheless. "Yeah. Yeah, Emma, I'm your mom." She regarded the blonde, eyes shining, and not just from the tears. "I never thought I would see you again. I know you don't remember me, but...I'm really happy to see you again. I really missed you."

Emma swallowed, unsure how to respond. Eventually, she settled on honesty. "I think...I think I really missed you too."

Mary Margaret moved towards her, slowly, and Emma let her wrap her arms around her. She felt nothing, the other woman's skin passing right through her own, but still. It was...nice. Emma brought her hands up around Mary Margaret's back as if returning it. When she pulled away, she was regarding Emma with a bright smile on her face.

"Soon we'll be able to do that for real, and you'll know who I am when we do."

Emma glanced back towards Regina, eyes wide. "Have you...?"

But Regina shook her head, and Emma tried to tamp down the disappointment that flashed in her chest. "No. Your mother is just...the optimistic type," She settled on, cynicism coloring her last few words.

Mary Margaret shot Regina a reproachful glance. "There's nothing wrong with being hopeful," She scolded, and Regina rolled her eyes.

Mary Margaret only replied with a smile, and then turned her attention to Henry. She walked over, stopping in front of him and hovering a hand over his shoulder as if she was giving him an affectionate squeeze. "I missed you, Henry."

Henry didn't seem to hold any of the same reservations that Emma did. He smiled up at her brightly, raising his own hand to meet hers. "It's really great to meet you," He said, and then added, "Again." It earned him a laugh, and Mary Margaret regarded him with affection. They stood like that for a heartbeat, and then Henry turned his attention to her outfit. "What in the world are you wearing?"

"What I normally wear in the Enchanted Forest. Well, when I'm not travelling, that is." She held out her dress, and offered him a little twirl, earning a smile. Emma noticed her clothing for the first time: her dress was long, made of thick white material, and decorated with tiny white beading reminiscent of that on the jewelry box she'd left behind. "Did Regina tell you I'm a queen?"

Regina snorted from behind her, but when Emma looked over at her, she was regarding Mary Margaret with affection. Carefully concealed affection, at that, but once again, her eyes betrayed her.

Still, "It's still technically my kingdom," She reminded her, and Mary Margaret shot her a wry glance. "I married in."

"I think we can consider that marriage null and void, all things considered," Mary Margaret shot back, her tone playful.

Regina only rolled her eyes.

"If this is how you normally dress where you are, why is Regina wearing business casual?" Henry asked. He was right - each time they'd seen Regina thus far she'd been wearing something closer to what Emma would wear to work than what she'd expect to see in a magical land. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, looked like she'd be right at home on the set of Game of Thrones.

Mary Margaret gave a wry grin. "Oh, Regina's dressed even more ridiculously than I am right now. I think she's just embarrassed."

Regina scoffed at that. "I am not embarrassed, Snow. I just thought it might be a little bit less jarring for them if I showed up in regular clothing."

Henry eyed her. "...How much more ridiculous is it?"

"A lot." Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "It's a bit scary. I keep asking her to tone it down, but she won't. Maybe you can convince her that a little pastel in her wardrobe wouldn't be the end of the world."

"I have a reputation to maintain," Regina shot back.

Mary Margaret smiled, looking like she wanted to say something but decided better of it. "Somehow I don't think that would change because of a little pink."

Emma eyed Regina's outfit. "So this is like, what, a glamor?"

Regina nodded. "Something like that. I have the ability to control how I appear to you when I set up the connection. Your mother insisted on going as she is."

Emma let her eyes trail over the other woman, ignoring the way the other woman raised her brow at the obvious appraisal. She was dressed in a pencil skirt and blazer set this time, a silky tan shirt just visible from beneath the jacket. It was paired with sheer tights and a pair of killer heels.

She looked much as she did in the photos, business casual and sleek. Emma wanted to know exactly how she appeared for real. She didn't like the idea of Regina putting on a false self, even if it was with Emma's comfort in mind.

"Can we see you without it?" She asked, and Regina shifted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I think that's a great idea," Mary Margaret pitched in.

Uncertainty crossed Regina's features. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on, Regina. You've told them about magic, right? It'll be good for them to see a little slice of our world."

Regina frowned at her.

"I'm curious, too," Henry piped up, and Regina's expression softened when she turned to him. There was a pause in which she considered, and then she shook her head.

"Alright, then." She sighed. "Like I said, though...it might be a little...jarring."

With that she rose her hand, and a rush of that same purple magic swirled around her. When it faded, Emma's jaw dropped open, and she didn't make any effort to hide it.

Extravagant didn't even begin to cover it.

Regina stood before them in a heavy, lavishly beaded robe of sorts. The neckline was cut generously low, and it seemed like she was wearing a corset beneath it, because - well. The fabric was a deep red, and Emma could swear she had shoulder pads. The robe split at the base of her abdomen, revealing a tight-fitting pair of leather pants and thigh high, heeled boots. Her hair was suddenly six inches longer, pulled back in an elaborate updo, and her makeup had turned several shades darker.

"Woah," Was all Emma could manage. The memory Regina had accidentally shown her the night before suddenly made sense - She must have been wearing something like this in it. Emma could remember the way her chest had felt so constricted by the corset but, damn, did it do wonders for Regina's cleavage.

"My eyes are up here, Emma." Regina scolded, but there was no fire behind it. When Emma tore her eyes away to meet hers, she had the ghost of a smirk at her lips.

"That's something I could have gone the rest of my life without witnessing," Mary Margaret muttered.

"Ditto," Henry agreed.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Tell me, how did this become all about my outfit? Isn't this supposed to be about you all reuniting?"

"You're right. Lightens the mood, though," Mary Margaret pitched in. She shook her head, glancing back towards Emma. "I really did miss this banter. I can only imagine the comments your father would make right about now."

Henry snickered. "I don't exactly remember him, but I have enough of a feeling to know it would be hilarious."

Mary Margaret beamed at him. "You're going to love him, Henry." She glanced back towards Emma. "You both are," She added. Silence stretched between them as the reality of the situation sank in once more. "We're going to find a way back to each other, don't worry. And we'll find a way to restore your memories, too. Maybe we'll even find a way to bring you over to the Enchanted Forest."

Emma bit back the apprehension that was rising in her throat, the sheer panic that that statement roused in her. Hell, she was stuck on the idea of bringing Henry to Storybrooke, let alone some mysterious magical realm whose existence she'd only just learned of. But still, Mary Margaret was regarding her with such hope flashing in her eyes that Emma couldn't bear to shoot the idea down outright. Instead she shook her head, replying as lightly as she could, "Do I have to dress like Regina if I do? No offense, but you look like you never grew out of your emo phase." It was clearly a very sexy adult emo phase, but still.

Regina scoffed, at the same time as Mary Margaret chuckled and said, "It was more like an Evil Queen phase. And no, she didn't."

Regina shot her a glare, and then turned back to Emma with a renewed defiance. "Your mother talks to birds."

"Birds?" Emma echoed.

"Squirrels, too."

"Hey!" Mary Margaret turned and gave Regina a little slap on the arm. Unlike her attempts to touch Emma and Henry, it actually made contact, and Regina scowled at her. "I'll have you know they're very intelligent!" Regina rolled her eyes, but her expression softened, betraying her affection for the other woman.

"Wait." Henry finally spoke up, drawing the attention of all three women immediately, but his eyes were fixed on Mary Margaret. "You talk to birds."

"It's really not that weird where we're from," Mary Margaret insisted, much to Regina's amusement.

Henry held up a hand, though, and turned his gaze back to Regina. "You're the...Evil Queen. And you called her Snow a minute ago."

It began to dawn on Emma then. "...Kid, I don't think -"

"Are you saying that you're fairy tale characters?" Henry gaped at them, eyes wide like he'd just had the breakthrough of the century.

Emma waited for the other women to rebuke the assumption, because really, that was ridiculous. There was no way. Magic is real? That she could handle. Alternate universes, memory curses, a mysterious beautiful ghost in her living room? Sure. But this -

She waited expectantly, glancing between the extravagantly dressed women. She had to admit, they looked every bit the part, standing there in their embellished gowns. It was ridiculous, though. She raised her brow, waiting for one of them to tell Henry that wasn't the case.

Except, neither of them shot him down.

Instead, Regina just shifted uncomfortably, and Mary Margaret did an honest to god curtsey, dipping her head and everything.

"Queen Snow White, at your service."

"Princess," Regina muttered under her breath.

Emma just gaped at them both.

Mary Margaret - Snow fucking White, apparently - flashed her a sympathetic smile, while Regina avoided her eyes. "I know it's a lot to ask you to believe. But it's the truth, I swear. I wouldn't lie to you, Emma."

Regina seemed to thaw a bit at that. "Neither would I. It's not the same as the stories from this land, but...she's telling the truth. She's a terrible liar, anyway. Can't keep a secret to save her life."

Emma shook her head, unable to take in this new information. "So, what. You're Snow White," She glanced at her mother, and then turned to Regina. "And you're, what, the Evil Queen? As in, fairest of them all, poison apple, all that?"

"There's a lot more to that story," Regina grimaced. "But yes."

Emma wrinkled her nose, a sudden realization dawning on her. "...Does that make you her step mother?"

Mary Margaret stifled a smile, and Regina looked like she was ill.

"It does," Regina confirmed, at the same moment Mary Margaret added, "Don't worry, you're not related."

"Oh, thank god." Emma breathed a sigh of relief, somewhat conscious of the fact that Henry was laughing in the background. She leaned back against the counter. Nobody spoke for awhile after that, apparently not wanting to voice the reason for Emma's relief out loud. She was fine with that, anyway.

After a minute, Henry asked, "...So. Where do we go from here?"