Chapter 2 - Twenty-three Minutes and Fifty Seconds
Everyone knows that grief is unique to the person who experiences it. For some, coping with loss meant writing in a journal or seeking professional help or even burying their heartache underneath endless amounts of food, but for Regina, this wasn't the case.
Regina is more of a curse-an-entire-realm type of griever.
Emma knows it, her parents know it, hell, everyone in Storybrooke knows it‚ they were all victims of Regina's previous loss.
When Cora killed Daniel, Regina dedicated her entire life to avenge his death, torturing every living soul that stood in her path. Thankfully, Emma hadn't been there to witness it but based on the stories she's heard, living with a ruthless and merciless Regina was no walk in the park.
The Regina in this land has evolved quite a bit from the Regina in the Enchanted Forest, but still, the fear that Robin's death may have pushed her off the scale is present within most.
The Evil Queen's potential return is the most talked about subject in Storybrooke.
Emma would be lying if she denied her concern about the issue. She knew Robin's passing alone wouldn't nudge Regina towards the darkness, but add Emma's newly revived pirate boyfriend into the mix, and things were bound to get messy.
But apparently, Regina didn't have to be in the equation at all. David, Mary-Margret, Henry, Zelena and Killian together in her parents' loft was trouble enough. Well, maybe not Henry because it's he and Emma who are caught in the crossfire from the heated argument that's taking place.
The two quietly sit side-by-side on wooden stools that surround the kitchen island, refusing to take sides in this family feud.
There's a loud thud across from them when Zelena smacks the palm of her hand against the head of the square dining table. "And you all call yourselves her friends? Have you no faith in her?"
"Zelena," Mary-Margret murmurs, sitting opposite from her. "Of course we have faith in her, but you don't know what she was like in the enchanted forest. I'm just worried."
Zelena rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair. "Worried," she sneers, crossing her arms. "She's human. Just let her grieve. That's the problem with you noble heroes; you can't just let things be as they are. There's always this incessant need to inject yourselves where you're not needed."
"If we just let her be, there's a chance she might give in to evil again. Just like she did with Daniel," David says with urgency. "Which is why we have to get her out of that vault and into her home."
"Or," Zelena suggests. "We don't do any of that. It's quite obvious she wants to be left alone. Otherwise, she wouldn't have sealed her vault with a protection spell."
Leaning on the metal staircase in the middle of the apartment, Killian lets out something between a laugh and a scoff. "Sounds like her majesty if you ask me."
Zelena shoots up from her chair as though she's had enough, staring Killian dead in the eye with her fists clenched at her sides. "Well, thank goodness no one bloody asked you. You've got some nerve pirate, showing your face like you give a damn."
"See that's where you've got it wrong love," Killian drawls. "I don't give a damn. I'm only here for Swan."
"If I had a say, you wouldn't be here at all. In fact, I do believe the underworld is in search for a new leader. I'd be more than happy to send them a new prospect."
Killian angrily pushes himself off from the staircase. "Why you little-"
"Enough!" Henry demands as he quickly gets up from the stool beside Emma and positions himself between the two, spreading his arms out to the side to stop them from getting any closer. "That's enough. We all want the same thing, whether it's for my mom's well-being or someone else's." He looks at David and Mary-Margret. "I have no doubt in my mind that my mom will continue to fight the darkness because I believe in her and you all should too." Then he directs his attention to Zelena. "And while I do think she should have time to mourn Robin, I just want her to come home."
Emma feels a tug at her chest when his bright eyes flash at her through the beaming sunlight. There's desperation in the way he looks at her like she's the sole person who can do just that; bring Regina home.
"Henry's right," Emma steps in, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. "Instead of focusing on whether or not she's reverting, let's concentrate on getting her home. For Henry," she says, smiling down at him.
She does well to put on a good face, glistening with confidence, but truth be told, Emma feels the pressure rising. Henry expects both his mothers to come home and Emma's not so sure she'll be able to deliver. The last two times she confronted Regina went horribly wrong and resulted in her disappearing in a cloud of smoke. Though, a part of her feels like Killian was responsible for the downfall of their last encounter.
When Emma found Regina walking past Gold's Pawnshop the day after Robin's funeral, everything was going well. Emma's genuine concern for the brunette had softened the solid front that screens her. Had Killian not interrupted when he did, Regina would have done something she rarely ever does.
She would have let Emma in.
Maybe it's still possible. But she'll have to see her alone. No interruptions this time. But of course, when Emma brings it up, Zelena doesn't necessarily agree.
"And what on earth gives you the right to go alone? She's my sister. I'm going."
Emma lets go of Henry and grabs her red leather jacket that hangs by the door. She slips it on, rotating her shoulders into the snug fit. "All due respect Zelena, you two have been sisters for all of five minutes."
A look of disgust sweeps over Zelena's face, accompanied by an eye roll that only a true Mills could pull off. "Looks like we have an inflated sense of self-worth now don't we?"
"Are we really going to do this? Now?"
"Oh no dear," Zelena says with a smug smile. She tilts her head to the side, the corners of her lips spreading wider by the second. "I just think there's more behind your reasoning."
Emma clenches her jaw and feels her stomach coil with indignation. The hard glare she sends Zelena's way is replied with an all-knowing wink, making Emma's blood boil. What the hell was she implying anyway? She clears her throat and brushes off Zelena's comment. The woman was undoubtedly pleased with herself for getting a rise out of her, so Emma puts out the flame burning inside her before she ends up blurting out something she regrets. "I'm just looking to be Regina's friend, and I haven't been able to do that lately‚ between being the Dark One and venturing off to the Underworld.
"She's been there for me through all of it. She never stopped seeing the good in me when I fought against the darkness and even risked her life by coming down to the Underworld to save Hook. Now that Robin is gone, the least I could do is be there for her. I owe her that much."
Zelena sighs and the smug smile is wiped off her face. Emma's never revealed that to anyone before, which is probably why she can feel every set of eyes in the room bore right through her. They all remain silent for a few moments before Mary-Margret speaks up. "Emma, you do know that Robin's death isn't your fault right?"
"I know it's not my fault, not completely anyway, but I'm not doing this out of guilt. I'm doing this because I want to. I promised her once I'd help her find her happy ending and that's exactly what I intend to do." She finishes off with her head held high, but the way she awkwardly leans against the door of her mother's loft suggests that she's anything but comfortable with everything she just shared.
Henry smiles brightly at her, easing the obvious discomfort that irradiates from her. She stuffs her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and turns to Zelena for the go-ahead. It's not long before the woman huffs out a "Fine. Go."
With that, she makes her way out of the loft and to the cemetery.
Here we go.
Breaking down one of Regina's protection spells is a losing battle, but she summons her magic anyway. Rays of white light gush through her palms like water through a fireman's hose and crash against the vault's shield of magic. The ground shakes at the contact but she manages to keep her balance, her aim never shifting from its target.
As expected, Regina's spell doesn't go down without a fight and slowly pushes Emma's magic back in her direction. The force of the spell makes its way closer until Emma retreats, ducking quickly to avoid the near hit. The vault glows with a purple, aura-like light as she gets to her feet once more.
She tries again.
This time, Emma gathers her magic into the palm of her hand, forming it into a large sphere. When it reaches the size of a soccer ball, she shoots it directly at the vault, hoping the impact would break the barrier that separates her from the vault's door. But it doesn't. The ball of magic merely scratches the surface of the protection spell as it ricochets recklessly into the air, disappearing before Emma could tell where it went. She just hopes it doesn't hit some poor schmuck walking along the streets of Storybrooke.
Emma catches her breath for a moment before pooling her magic once again. She figures if she could extract slightly more than before, there would be a better chance of cracking the shield. A nasty headache forms around her eyes, but she pushes through it until she feels she's gathered enough. Once satisfied, Emma launches her magic, only to be rewarded with the same outcome as earlier.
So that's two failed attempts and possibly two unlucky schmucks. Goddammit.
Anger reels in as Emma grunts with frustration. And without thinking, she pulls her hands to her chest before lunging them forward again, blasting, even more, power towards the vault, white light crashing violently against purple. The pounding headache only grows as Emma attempts to keep her shaky hands steady. But soon energy drains from her body as if being sucked out of her along with every ounce of magic she can force. Her lids start to droop over her eyes before Emma drops down to her knees, still pouring out all the strength she has left. There's a prickling sensation that runs through her fingers and slowly spreads across her arms.
She barely sees through half-shut eyes and her brain feels like it's pulsing through her skull. She doesn't think she can hold out much longer. And now that her lungs dangerously crave oxygen, her body surrenders to the spell's retaliation.
Her frail arms fall to the side, and purple magic strikes Emma right to the chest, slamming the little air she has right out of her lungs. She's thrown off her knees, into the air like a ragdoll until her back collides heavily with the wall of a rock-solid Mausoleum. The blast of magic continues to push her hard against the stone as gravity drags her down to the ground, causing her leather jacket to lift and expose bare skin to rough concrete.
There's a stabbing pain that rips along her spine causing her body to shudder fiercely when she hits the dirt. A small pool of blood begins to surround her, staining her fingers that dig into the chalk-like earth. She lets out a weak groan, and as warm tears slowly coat her burning cheeks, she starts counting. She counts because she can't move. She can't do anything. Any movement whatsoever feels like a sharp blade piercing through her flesh. Her body stiffens‚ to the point where she feels like she's made out of porcelain and just might shatter at any given moment.
But she continues to count. She counts every passing second, doing her best to keep her mind from drifting out of consciousness.
Her nails cut deeper into the now blood-moist ground with every excruciating throb. She's hanging on, though. Someone will come. Someone will find her. It would all be over soon.
As thin as the thread may be, her grip on life only fastens. Emma can't let go; she won't. She has to be brave. If not for herself, then for Henry.
But as the hot sun burns against open flesh, as a staggering amount of pain shreds through her, panic is what swallows her whole. Who is she kidding? Being alone at a time like this scares the living hell out of her. She's losing too much blood too fast and her chances of -one minute.
Even with all the pain she's in, Emma still wants to run. She wants to get up and bolt to Regina's mausoleum. There's magic in there, magic that can heal her. But she's being held back, tied to an anchor that only seems to pull her deeper into the ocean.
It's ironic how the one thing that is supposed to offer stability, meant to keep one grounded, only drags her away from shore. And it keeps pulling. The thread that binds her to life continues to stretch, and it's only a matter of time before it snaps.
Someone will find her though‚ any second now. Someone will save her soon enough.
But seconds become minutes. Twenty minutes and thirty seconds to be exact. And hope that someone may be coming begins to wash away like the blood that escapes from her throbbing wound.
Emma carefully turns her head to find the puddle of crimson increasing in size and the heartbeat pounding in her ears becomes deafening. Literally. She can't hear anything.
Except for this screeching ring, that sounds more like someone who's flatlining in a hospital bed.
Twenty-one minutes.
Maybe she's the one flat lining. She's not in a hospital, but the fact that she can no longer feel any part of her body tells her she may not make it past sunset.
Trying to be everyone's savior meant always walking on thin ice, but Emma is grateful her last step before plunging into the ice-cold water was for Regina's benefit. The reason remains unclear, but if she isn't going to drown for Henry's sake, she's glad it's for Regina's.
Twenty-two minutes.
There's a hopeless breath that slips through her lips like all is lost, like she's ready to stop fighting. It feels like all she wants is to fall into an endless sleep and there's a voice in her head that keeps telling her to let go. It keeps telling her that she'll be all right if she just closes her-
Twenty-three minutes.
She almost listens to it too.
Until someone who is frantically running towards her emerges from behind golden sun rays. Emma can't make out who it is, but the panic portrayed through their body language is more than clear. And she can't keep her focus on this person for long because now her lids don't give her a choice. They slide down almost forcefully, but before they shut completely, at twenty-three minutes and fifty seconds, she sees her.
Regina.
Her flushed, distraught face, wet with tears, comes into clear view for a moment. Just a moment. A moment quick enough for Emma to mumble in a shaky breath, "Found you."
And as a smile pulls at the corners of Emma's lips, Regina is replaced with the endless darkness that drapes over her.
In a cross between a walk and a slow jog, Regina re-enters the hospital room like someone who missed a scene of their favorite show due to a bathroom break. She stands at the side of the bed, staring down at its occupant. Emma. "I just brought Henry home. How is she? Any change?"
"No," Mary-Margret replies, the rhythmic beeping of the machines in the room making it hard for her to think let alone speak.
"Well, what about-"
"No change."
The cold lighting in the room does little to make Emma's condition any less worse than it seems. Her skin is as pale as the pages in a book, and her unruly blonde hair is slick with oil at the roots. The dark circles under her eyes make it look as though she hadn't slept in days. But the reality is quite opposing. She's been sleeping for days now‚ or resting. Anyone who used anything other than those two terms would be thrown out of the room by Mary-Margret herself.
"What did Whale say while I was gone?"
"That she needs rest."
"How much could she possibly need?"
"As much as she can get."
"She's been resting for three days," Regina says anxiously, her hand stretching down to Emma's shoulder.
Her gaze follows Regina's palm. "I'm aware Regina."
"I'm sorry, I'm just-"
"I know. Why don't you get us some coffee? I have a feeling we're going to need it. "
To Mary-Margret's delight, that's exactly what Regina does. And as the brunette exits the room, she exhales deeply at the sight of her unconscious daughter.
Three days, moving on to four, and Emma still hasn't woken up.
Not that Regina has been making it any easier. Her constant, guilt-driven hovering made waiting for Emma's recovery all the more nerve-racking. Not only did Mary-Margret have to worry about her comatose daughter, but also watch over a distressed Regina. Apparently, that came with the job of being Emma's mother. And it certainly was no easy task.
Taming Regina is something anyone has yet to master. The woman is like a ticking time bomb; which is why Dr. Whale won't allow her in the room when he performs his routine checkups. There have been more than a few threats to his life when Regina wasn't accusing him of malpractice. From the moment she brought Emma in, she's been a distraught mess.
But Mary-Margret hadn't been any better, she just kept her anxiety bottled up inside her. However, Regina's actions would have been an accurate representation of her own if she hadn't.
And as the late hour begins to creep up on her, the only thing Mary-Margret can do is hope. Hope that whatever Regina had surrounding her vault, wasn't enough to ki-
She can't even say it.
But she's been hoping for almost four days now, and it's gotten her nowhere.
Her daughter still lies in the hospital bed, covered in bruises and lacerations, hooked up to every piece of machinery known to man. The sight burns a hole right through her. Even with Regina's healing magic, Emma needs to be awake for the spell to take full effect.
Clearly, that moment has yet to come.
She sighs, utterly discouraged until her ears catch onto what she thinks is a faint groan. Her mind tells her that fatigue is playing tricks‚ as it is fifteen minutes to midnight‚ but she hears it again. And again. Mary-Margret snaps her gaze in Emma's direction to see a pair of fluttering eyes adjusting to the bright neon light above.
"Emma!"
She bolts from the visitors' seat in the corner of the room and wraps gently wraps her arms around Emma's fragile body. Tears drip to the side of her face, now squished against Emma's. "You're awake!" she laughs with relief, still hugging a squirming Emma tightly to her chest. "I'm so happy you're okay."
It's only when she finally lets her daughter go that Emma gets the chance to speak. "Can I get some coffee too?"
The words barely crackle past her lips and carry a heavy rasp, but it's the most beautiful sound Mary-Margret has heard all week.
She wipes away another tear rolling down to her lips before cupping Emma's cheek, and she nods happily while releasing a breathy laugh.
"Great because I think I'm going to need one. My head hurts like a bitch," she says with a weak smile, evidently trying to conceal the immense amount of discomfort she feels.
Mary-Margret rests her palm over Emma's forearm, stroking her thumb across her skin in a soothing motion. "How are you feeling? You've been unconscious for a while."
"I feel like a million bucks," Emma kids, chuckling lightly until the pain catches up to her. She looks curiously around the room. "I thought I heard Regina."
Mary-Margret can't help but notice a pinch of disappointment in her tone, as her daughter continues to look around, careful not to irritate her wound.
"You did."
Emma's eyes widen instantly as her head lifts from the pillow before flinching in pain again. She breathes through it before asking, "She was here?"
"Every day," Mary-Margret replies with a curious brow. "She goes home to sleep. Then comes right back here, bright and early."
And there's something about the way Emma's eyes light up that makes Mary-Margret question the reason behind. But she pushes her curiosity aside for another time because Regina's back and is now standing in the middle of the doorway as stiff as a plank of wood.
The woman's mouth drops as the two coffee cups she holds slip right through her palms, splashing against the laminate flooring. Emma's gaze lands directly onto Regina and Regina's is already dead on Emma. Their eyes burn right through one another, and suddenly Mary-Margret feels like they've forgotten she was in the room.
Regina swallows nervously as her palms press against her stomach. "You're...you're awake."
"I am," Emma says. A tint of red blossoms over her cheeks as she brings her shoulders up to her ears. "Hi."
Mary-Margret knits her brows, unsure as to what she's witnessing here, but her eyes continue to dart back and forth from blonde to brunette like she's watching a Ping-Pong match.
And then Regina's look of relief quickly turns into one of fury. She storms into the room. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"I wanted to help."
"No. You were worried the Evil Queen was about to come out and play. As I'm sure you all were," Regina challenges, giving Emma a stern look in the process. "You could have been killed."
And if looks could kill, Emma would surely be done for. Regina isn't having it, and the vein on her forehead seems like it's going to pop any second now.
Mary-Margret quietly steps back until she reaches the chair in the corner of the room. She most definitely does not want to interrupt this...whatever it is. She has a feeling it's going to be an interesting little quarrel. A bowl of popcorn wouldn't sound so bad right about now.
Sitting down, she watches the two bicker, arguing about how utterly idiotic Emma had been and how if Regina hadn't been so stubborn, none of it would have happened in the first place. The whole thing was childish, to say the least.
But they always fought like this.
Insults were thrown at each other like they're going out of style right before the blame game begins. It's almost like a verbal boxing match, and it's quite the entertainment. Mary-Margret would put an end to it, really she would, but before Regina stepped into the room, Emma was far from the worked up, hot and bothered state she's in now. If she's honest, Mary-Margret enjoys seeing so much life restored into her daughter after three days of watching her sleep.
"I told you your pity was not wanted nor needed," Regina hisses in her infamous mayoral tone. "But apparently to the Savior, that means, 'Hey, let me go out and instigate further. Maybe throw in a near-death experience while I'm at it.'"
Emma rolls her eyes and huffs in exhaustion. "I wasn't trying to instigate Regina. I was-"
"I don't care if you were bringing me Hook's head on a plate. What you did was reckless and most certainly ill-advised Miss Swan."
Mary-Margret snickers under her breath until Emma says something that grabs her interest. It's a question that she's been itching to ask but never had the gall to bring up.
Even Regina is taken back when Emma curiously asks, "Why do you care? Why is it so important to you that I stay out of harm's way?"
Now would be an excellent time for that popcorn.
"Because I just lost Robin," she snaps, her authoritative tone disappearing in a flash. Regina's eyes being to water and her voice is brittle, almost like she's about to release a wrenching sob. "He died on my account and so help me God if the same happens to you."
Maybe Mary-Margret could add some chocolate too because this just got five times more engaging than she originally anticipated. She can't believe what she's hearing and from the looks of it, Regina can't either. It seems like the usually self-composed brunette is completely stunned by her own response.
There's a long pause between the two. Neither of them dares to look each other in the eye. Regina shifts her weight from one foot to the other while brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. And Emma stares down at her hospital gown like it's the only thing she's allowed to look at.
But then Regina awkwardly breaks the silence, getting right back down to business. "If I'm going to heal you, I need access to the wound."
Emma nods as she slowly turns to her side, revealing her bare back to the brunette. And without a single word, Regina works her magic. A yellow glow oozes from the woman's hands and blankets Emma's wound. Within seconds, Emma is seemingly pain-free. No more bruises, no more cuts and no huge gash on her daughter's back.
She looks as good as new, and Mary-Margret couldn't be happier. If she didn't know any better, relief seems to wash over Regina as well. A microscopic smile flashes over the brunette's lips, fading just as quickly as it came before she begins to make her way out of the room.
Emma props herself onto her elbows with complete ease and calls out, "Regina."
The brunette stops dead in her tracks, right in the middle of the doorway, but doesn't turn around. She waits for Emma to speak instead.
"I won't," she ensures. Only Regina's head turns slightly at the words, her gaze fixed onto the green flooring as Emma continues. "I won't die on your account. But I will continue to be there for you. No matter what that takes."
The reply Emma waits for never comes. The only sound that fills the air is Regina's heels that click out of the room. Emma huffs out a deep breath and falls back against the bed, staring directly at the ceiling.
Mary-Margret looks at her pensively. She's slightly worried that Emma had meant that last statement. Considering that she so senselessly put her life in danger for Regina just three days ago, gave her every right to be. "No matter what it takes?"
Emma rolls her head toward her mother before looking back up at the ceiling. She brings the back of her palm to her forehead before replying, "No matter what it takes."
Regina sits up on her bed, back against the headboard and knees curled up to her chest. It's well past midnight, and she hadn't slept since she arrived home from the hospital earlier that night. Regina hasn't done much of anything except sit still and occasionally knock her head against the headboard out of frustration—gently of course, as she doesn't want to wake Henry, sound asleep in the next room.
Seven days have passed since Robin's death, but to Regina, it feels all of seven minutes. It's as though almost no time has passed. She can still feel the stab to her heart the moment he stepped in front of her, accepting the strike of lightning that obliterated his soul. She still feels the tremor beneath her feet when his body hit the cold, hard ground. She can still picture every damned detail on his face when he looked up at her for the last time. The delicate touch to her cheek still lingers, and his croaky voice still reaches her ears loud enough to make her think he's really there.
She hasn't stepped foot in the Town Hall office since that night, yet it's all Regina sees. And if the god-awful sight of his soul dissolving into nothing doesn't haunt her mind, it's only replaced with memories. Every laugh, every tear, every touch, every kiss, everything they've ever shared together plays in sequence like a short film only she can see. It's a film she's going to have to watch over and over because it will never have a sequel. She blames herself for that. It should have been her. Every single time, it should have been her. All she can think about is how loving her has the consequence of death.
The guilt eats her alive. Every day.
It's a delicate cycle. One that Regina can't repeat for much longer because if this horrible burden victimizes someone else, she might just-
She shudders at the thought and hugs her legs tighter to her chest, letting her head fall to her knees. Somehow doing so makes her feel less hollow, less alone. But maybe that's exactly how she's meant to be after all. Alone. She always has been and perhaps it's for the best. This way no one gets hurt. No one dies. The only one that suffers is Regina.
And she's okay with that. She'd much rather bleed than have others bleed for her. She just hopes Emma's determination on being a pain in the ass perishes soon. Otherwise, she too will be met with the same unfortunate fate.
She almost was.
Emma was flat against hard stone, quivering in her own blood when Regina found her. It felt much too familiar when tears streamed down her face, dropping to the earth when they reached the tip of her chin. There was an identical pang to the chest when Emma looked up at her with a tight smile, when blue-green eyes retreated behind blonde lashes. Once again, Regina about to watch someone she...she was about to watch yet another person succumb to the curse bestowed upon her.
The chime of the doorbell distracts Regina from her thoughts. And it does so just in time too because being alone with her thoughts was treacherous at best. It did more harm than good. Another minute or so would have lead to-
she doesn't even want to say it.
Regina hops off her bed and quietly scurries down the stairs, halting just before she reaches the door. She stands on the very last step of the staircase and listens. As she flicks on the light, she hears a muffled voice with a thick British accent coming from outside. Regina correctly assumes it belongs to Zelena but then there's another. It's chirpy, it's optimistic, it's so annoyingly eager that it currently rubs Regina in all the wrong ways, it's-
"Mary-Margret," Regina smiles falsely as she swings the door open. She turns to her sister. "Zelena, how kind of you to bring company."
Zelena shrugs apologetically. "She insisted on being here."
"We thought you might want some company," Mary-Margret suggests.
"Well actually, I thought you might want my company," Zelena specifies. "But apparently we can't do anything without the Charmings around."
"It's past midnight," Regina frowns. "Henry's asleep upstairs."
"Well you're awake aren't you?"
Regina dismisses the statement and looks between a beaming Mary-Margret and a displeased Zelena. "And Emma?"
The question flows effortlessly from her mouth. It was almost a reflex. She barely had time to process the words before they decided to jump from her tongue. She feels the heat rise to her cheeks as Mary-Margret narrows her eyes at her. It looks as if she's trying to make sense of it all. Though what she's trying to understand is beyond Regina. It's a simple question. Hell, even a flying monkey could answer it with ease.
"She's fine. Thank you for healing her," Mary-Margret finally replies. "May we come in?"
But that's not what Regina was asking. She knows quite well that Emma is fine. The spell she used to heal her was much too flawless for Emma not to be. In fact, it was undoubtedly some of her best work. No, the blonde's well-being isn't her concern right now. The question she wanted the answer to was-
"Regina?"
"Fine," Regina rolls her eyes, too spent to argue. She looks directly at the pixie-haired woman before adding, "But if you're here to deliver one of your infamous hope speeches, I don't want to hear it. I'd much rather drown my sorrows in tequila. Or perhaps apple cider‚ I haven't decided yet."
Mary-Margret nods sympathetically as Regina struts back up the stairs, leaving both women at the doorstep. As the heels of her feet stomp against each step, Regina raises her forefinger in the air and says, "And there will be no pity party. Any of that crap will result in you being hauled out to the front porch." She stops before entering her room, flooring Zelena and Mary-Margret with a pointed glare. "Do I make myself clear?"
They look at her with wide eyes and nod simultaneously.
"Good. I've decided on tequila. There's a bottle in the freezer and glasses in the cabinet. Meet me in my study."
