TRIGGER WARNING: quick mention of blood at the very end of the chapter.

A/N: Y'all aren't ready. Enjoy x

CHAPTER 18 – Emma – Danced

Grunts brimming with frustration – admittedly, childishly so – were all I could utter that afternoon. The third time a snort escaped my mouth, Regina stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to look at me, her eyes displaying an impatience you'd expect to be directed only to a petulant toddler.

"Emma, we get it: you don't want to go. But, honest to gods, I'll gag you with my scarf, if you don't shut your mouth," she hissed.

I looked at her with a sulk, not taking the threat too seriously – she might have been the Evil Queen, once, but she would never hurt me now, that much I was sure of.

Nonetheless, I didn't like her being angry at me – no matter how much I might have had it coming… Hence my next line.

"Kinky," I retorted an eyebrow perking up as I studied her reaction.

Her nostrils flared as I let out that single word. I would have taken it as a sign of seething ire, if the trembling corners of her mouth weren't suggesting otherwise: she was just trying to suppress a smile.

Unwilling to give in to amusement, Regina turned back around and resumed her journey behind the others, who hadn't noticed our brief exchange.

My mother, Belle, Regina and I were wandering around town on a quest to find appropriate outfits for the ball – the ball, which was taking place later that night – much to my disagreement.

Ruby had been supposed to join us, but she had called earlier that day to announce Dorothy's awakening, so she preferred to spend time with her and skip the party. I had tried to use Dorothy's interrogation as an excuse to avoid the ball, but my mother, being Ruby's best friend, was aware of her request to wait a few days for Dorothy to recover properly, before starting my inquire, and didn't fall for it. Unfortunately.

I hadn't even had the time to mentally prepare myself for that evening – Dorothy's sudden appearance had overcast any other worry, including that night's gathering – yet there I was, dragging myself behind an entirely too enthusiastic and hyperactive Snow White, a mildly excited but beaming Belle, and an exasperated Regina. We had been in and out of shops for the past two hours, and only Belle, who was pregnant but not yet showing, had found a dress fitting the occasion – she was still looking for a pair of heels to go with it, though.

Eventually, I gave in to being my mother's mannequin for the day – she was much more excited for what Regina and I were going to wear than herself – and let her dress me up like a Barbie doll. A great majority of the gowns she was making me try on were absolutely hideous – fluffy and puffy and frilly – to the point where I honestly thought she was intentionally trying to draw an emotional breakdown out of me. When I finally chose a dress – the most sober one I found, a silk, rose gold-colored gown that I only chose to put a stop to that endless torture, and definitely not because a certain someone couldn't take her eyes off my cleavage – mom moved her undesired attention onto Regina, whom had dread plastered all over her face, in stark contrast with my mother's glistening eyes and quivering limbs.

"If you dare even think I'm willing to wear anything even remotely as obnoxiously garish as what you made your daughter try on, I will end you," Regina informed, leading the way out of the changing rooms area and back to the main space to select some options, mom hot on her heels, unfazed by her menacing words.

"If it is the last thing you do?" mom mocked, and I swear I saw Regina's lips tilt upwards, even if only for a second. Ah, how I missed the good ol' days.

I heavily let myself sink into one of the poufs right outside the changing rooms, sincerely jaded from all the walking and changing of clothes, and Belle quickly joined me.

"How are you doing?" she inquired with her sweet, heavily-accented voice, intuitively thoughtful as always.

I didn't need her to elaborate her request to sense what she was referring to – having one of your closest friends forget who you are can't possibly be an easy burden to bear, not even for me.

So I confessed, sincere, "It's hard". I knew, even before I started talking, that I was going to blurt out everything I had been keeping inside for so long; Belle was someone I could trust – despite her questionable romantic choices – yet we didn't have enough close of a relationship for me to feel embarrassed or ashamed about letting my feelings out in the open. "When I first came to Storybrooke, I had never had anyone who cared about me. I was used to being alone, I had learned the hard way that growing attached to somebody would eventually hurt me, and I didn't think it was worth the risk.

"But then Henry dug his way into my life, followed by Mary Margaret and David and, despite the unconventional nature of our connection, Regina. As time went by, she became part of a family that I had spent most of my life dreaming of, and yet I had never thought I would actually get a chance of having. Despite my good sense and all the precautions I had taken, I couldn't help but actually grow fond of each and every member of it.

"The fact that Regina and I managed to turn a relationship that had started off as an odd fight of intimidation, pride and power into a real friendship – full of ups and downs, but a friendship nonetheless – made me cherish what we had even more than I normally would have. When she left, a few months ago, I realized that losing someone I had grown that attached to was a wound that would never completely heal – especially considering the fact that she didn't even remember who I was.

"And now I realize that my life has completely turned upside down the moment I crashed into the Storybrooke sign at the city limit: not because I found out where I came from and that the world I was living in was just one of many; but because from that moment on, my existence filled with people who care about me and whom not only I've grown fond of, but even learned to love. Losing one of them tore me apart; yes, she's back now, but she also isn't – and I have to take into consideration the possibility that she might never remember what our relationship used to be like and how much we've changed, during these years. I don't know if I'm ready for that."

I took a deep breath after my explanation; it had been cathartic. I felt much lighter after exposing my insecurities to Belle, and I was glad I had finally decided to open up to someone, strange as our current situation might have been.

She studied me for a moment, looking intently into my eyes; oddly enough, as she observed me I felt more exposed than while I was sharing my insecurities.

I sent a questioning glance her way, and after another moment of silence, she spoke up.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Belle's words were soft, her smile sweet and understanding.

I kept staring at the woman without really seeing her. She wasn't pushing me into confessing anything; she selflessly wanted me to ponder on my feelings and come to terms with them. I appreciated her efforts and gave her a grateful smile, but I couldn't help the thick walls that I had spent my whole life building up from rising, once again.

When a shadow of realization crossed Belle's eyes, I knew she understood what was happening inside my head: she knew I was closing myself up, and she didn't push the matter any further, merely squeezing my arm as she stood up and joined my mother and Regina on the other end of the shop.

I watched as the three of them scanned the dresses in search of valid candidates, Regina fairly often snapping a sarcastic comment to something my mother had suggested.

Love. Curious, how such a simple, small word could make you feel so utterly terrified.

"Come on, Emma, we're going to be late!" dad called out from downstairs.

It was around nine in the evening; I had excused myself and walked back to the loft right after my conversation with Belle, ignoring the worry on Regina's face as I busted out of the shop.

I tried my best not to think about Regina after that, but even now, as I finished getting ready, I couldn't help but wonder if she would like the way I looked.

With one last check at the mirror, I adjusted my lipstick and put on a pair of stilettos. I wasn't much of a fan of high heels, but I had to admit it – they made me look hot. I liked wearing them from time to time, a decision my feet were never too happy about… I still couldn't conceive how Regina managed to wear them every day. Stop thinking about her!, I reprimanded myself. Like that was ever gonna happen.

I yelled a, "Coming!" in reply to my father, desperate to get my mind off of things, and after a few tentative steps I managed to climb down the stairs without breaking my neck – and that was saying something.

After finally getting downstairs, dad – the regality and effortless elegance with which he wore his tuxedo hinting at his royal past – looked at me with glistening eyes and open mouth. I blushed slightly at his reaction, embarrassed by the attentions he was giving me.

"You look beautiful, honey," he said, and his fond smile hid almost completely the regret of not being able to see his little girl grow into the woman before him.

I smiled back and proceeded to fix his bowtie. The domesticity of that little moment made me realize just how glad I was to have finally found my family.

I threw on the classy overcoat hanging from the hooks right next to the front door and we made our way to the gathering, my mom already there to make sure everything was perfectly settled and met her ambitious expectations.

Once we arrived at Town Hall, I noticed that the walkway leading to the entrance had been covered by a red carpet, the hedges and benches at its sides decorated with fairylights to light up the path. I looped my arm around my father's, and I unconsciously straightened my back while we slowly strode inside.

The entrance hall was already crowded despite the early hour, our fellow citizens waiting for the footmen to take their coats to the adjacent room. Surprisingly, it wasn't very long until we entered the conference room-turned-ball room, very tastefully decorated. The sea of chairs that usually filled the main space had disappeared, and the platform for the occasional speaker had been re-arranged for the employed band, a white grand piano dominating the scene.

"You have to admit it," my father stated, after he had also taken a look at his surroundings, "she did a great job."

I hummed a small, non-committal, "Mmh," in response, not wanting to reveal just how positively impressed I was, and I shuffled through the swarm of people in order to find an isolated, hidden spot where I could vegetate until it was acceptable for me to leave without offending anybody.

A hand grasped my arm before I could get much further; turning around I saw my mom, flushed with excitement, gorgeous in her red dress that matched both her lips and her necklace.

"You look wonderful, dearie!" she exclaimed with a smile, cupping my cheek with one hand and holding my wrist with the other. "I hope you'll have a great time."

She left immediately after, not waiting for a reply, and I just stood there, confused, while I watched her disappear in the sea of people. My heart sank a bit as I realized she hadn't listened to a word I had said, when I had expressed my opposition to attending the party. Yes, maybe I was overreacting, but you'd want your mother to respect your wishes, right? Then again, she did put a lot of time and effort into making this evening possible; of course she wanted her daughter to see the result of such dedication. Thinking objectively at the reason why I was complaining, I perfectly understood why Henry and Regina called me a drama queen… they were right. Not that I was going to admit that any time soon…

Speak of the devil, my train of thoughts was interrupted when my son, wearing a dark blue tux, entered the room. I gawked at him for a good moment, but as soon as my brain processed what I was seeing, my eyes shamelessly filled with tears. When did he stop being that ten year-old that used to carry his fairytale book everywhere?!

Then, when I noticed who he was accompanying, nothing before, around or inside me mattered anymore. The whole world had offhandedly disappeared; there was no one except for the breathtaking woman who was laughing with my – our – son; and, honestly, I couldn't have asked for a better sight.

Regina gazed up, directly into my eyes, as if drawn by a primordial instinct; as if she knew exactly where I was. We kept staring at each other, unaware of our surroundings and careless of everything that was happening, other than each other.

As soon as I recollected a bit of rationality, I walked up to them, finding it extremely hard to tear my eyes away from Regina – and, I was glad to notice, she was having the same issue with me. It took a while, but I finally managed to divert my attention onto my son, who had been witnessing our interaction with a small, knowing grin that I didn't give much importance to.

"You look handsome, kid," I told him, ignoring his cocky expression. "Where'd you get the tux?"

"Granps took me to a tailor, last week. Do you think Violet will like it?" His question swiped away any trace of amusement from his face, replacing it with almost-comical worry.

"She'll love it," I replied, my tone calm and reassuring. I spotted the girl in question behind him, a couple of feet away from us. "Why don't you go ask her yourself?"

Henry waved us goodbye and went to join Violet, leaving Regina and I alone.

I could feel her gaze on me, the odd tingle at the base of my neck telling me so, and when I glanced up our eyes once again interlocked, unable to move away from each other.

"You look exceptionally beautiful tonight, Miss Swan," she whispered, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Why, thank you," I replied, bowing my head in mock formality. "The same applies for you, Your Majesty."

Our brief exchange was quickly interrupted by my mother's voice, enhanced by the microphone she was speaking from. Every single head in the room simultaneously turned towards the dais, my mother standing at the center of the stage with a warm smile on her face.

"People of Storybrooke, welcome! Thank you all for joining me on this beautiful evening. I hope you will all have a well-deserved wonderful time. Now, without any further ado… May the dancing begin!"

With those words, a large space opened in the middle of the crowd, as every person previously occupying it moved to the edges of the room to leave an empty area for my parents to start the dance. As they approached the center of the floor, a soft, light music filled the air, and soon enough several pairs of people had joined mom and dad, moving to the music and following a routine that surely originated from the Enchanted Forest.

There were a few couples, probably the people from Camelot, Neverland, Woderland or Oz, that simply swung from side to side, unaware of the movements everyone else was following.

Looking at all those pairings, I realized that I didn't actually have anyone to dance with: too busy complaining about the party itself, I hadn't considered bringing a date with me. Besides, there was but one person I would have liked to dance with; and I was never going to ask her. Firstly, because I didn't have the guts to, and secondly, because I knew all the attention would be on us, and I wasn't comfortable with the idea.

To distract me from my thoughts was Henry, who joined the dance with Violet. He wasn't following the Enchanted Forest's choreography, engaging in something more simple – and adorably awkward – instead.

"Where did he learn how to waltz?" My question was rhetorical; I wasn't expecting an answer, and when one came – despite it being disguised as another question – it took me by surprise.

"Why did you think he so badly wanted to get ready at the mansion?" Regina asked in reply, making me turn towards her.

"You taught him?"

She nodded, a proud, almost smug smile escaping her normally impassive façade. "I can't exactly tell how I could possibly remember the steps, as I don't recall learning them in the first place, but I'm most definitely not complaining."

"I know how you learned," I grinned.

She arched a brow at me, silently inviting me to go on. I jerked my thumb towards my parents. "My dad taught you, in Camelot."

Regina wrinkled her nose in disgust at the information, but kept unwelcomed comments to herself.

We stayed there for a little while, silently watching as everyone else seemed to have a good time. On one corner of the room I spotted Mr. Gold eyeing Belle as she danced with her father and, afterwards, a tall man that I didn't recognize. Considering the look on her former husband's face, he must have been more than a simple friend; I found myself evilly pleased by the imp's misfortune – and, honestly, I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty about it.

After the second song had finished, I saw my mother curtsey as my father bowed – both accompanying the gesture with an exaggerated, but sadly non-ironic flourish – and look around, searching for someone; they would have seen me, if Regina hadn't promptly grabbed my hand, dragged me out of the conference room and pushed me into an empty one, just down the hallway.

"Thank you for that," I let out, slightly startled by the unexpected change of location. Looking around, I took in my surroundings.

Fairly small and plainly decorated, I recognized what had normally been the meeting room: a large, rectangular table was settled in the middle of the area, surrounded by uncomfortable seats that I, what with being Sheriff and all, had had to suffer during those infernally boring monthly meetings with the Mayor and several other financially and legally influential people. At the moment, however, it also harbored the dozens of chairs missing from the conference hall, stacked on top of each other and clustered along the perimeter of the room, against the wall, functioning as an improvised storage room.

The constricting space was barely enough for Regina and I to take a few steps and walk around the mahogany table, but that forced closeness wasn't much of a problem. During the past few weeks, our concept of personal space had significantly mutated, and we were now accustomed to having it 'violated' by the other person; funnily enough, I didn't mind in the slightest. Despite generally being loath to let people that close to me, I had never felt more comfortable than when Regina was.

"No need for gratitude, dear," she retorted, after closing the door and interrupting my train of thoughts. "You would have ended up being forced to dance with your father, and I wouldn't wish such fate upon anyone. I might have been Evil, once, but I'm most certainly not anymore."

I frowned at the intricacy of the insult, although it wasn't unlikely to hear such complex comments from Regina. However, what titillated my attention was the selflessness of what she had done – saving me from the horrible fate of dancing with my parents, entirely out of sincere concern for my well-being.

"It was thoughtful," I insisted. "Thoughtfulness and Regina are usually all but polar opposites. I wasn't prepared for this."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself. It wasn't being thoughtful in the slightest," she retorted, her denial sounding more aimed towards herself, rather than me. "I simply refused to witness the atrocious, if not even pitiful, sight of you stumbling over your father's feet, each and every one of your steps accompanied by a childish complaint… Not alike your usual behavior, I might add; only, a hundred times worse."

I smirked at her reply, both insulting in that oh-so-very Regina way, and defensive at the same time.

I shot back a confident sneer, slowly making my way towards her. There wasn't much room for maneuver; nonetheless, I managed to wiggle my way around a few chairs and press my body against Regina's, entrapping her between myself and the door. The thin fabric of our dresses was frustratingly teasing, letting us feel everything that was underneath, yet not remotely enough to be satisfying in the slightest.

Regina bowed her head, brushing the tip of her nose and her parted lips against the bare skin of my shoulder, our magic sending thrilling chills throughout my entire body.

"I think," I managed to breathe out, gently pulling at her hair to make her look at me, "that you're full of shit, Your Majesty."

She glared at me for a second, a flash of defiance clouding her brown eyes, and before I could even process what was happening, one of her hands was grasping and pulling my hair, the other one possessively squeezing my butt, and her mouth was on my own, aggressive and dominant and so. Unbelievably. Sexy.

I kissed her back with the same vehemence, one of my legs finding its way in between hers – which, awkwardly enough, resulted in us grinding against the silk fabric of our gowns, seeking for a friction that we were inevitably denied.

We were both panting with anticipation, but it wasn't long before we realized those dresses were the most unpractical pieces of clothing we could choose, to have a quickie against the wall; with a final, hard nib at my bottom lip, Regina interrupted the kiss, her eyes meeting mine in a way that was, somehow, infinitely more intimate than the heated moment we had just shared. I knew for a fact that her dilated pupils were but a mirror of my own ones, the lust that flushed her cheeks reflecting the passion that had ignited my body.

Without thinking about it, I looped my arms around her neck and just hugged her, relishing in the feeling of her firm grip around my waist and the small, satisfied sigh that escaped her lips and made my skin tingle.

She was leaving small, feathery pecks on my neck, firing up the swarm of butterflies that, by then, had settled in my stomach, when the room suddenly went dark and the music from the dance hall abruptly stopped, a thick, distressed chattering replacing the laughter and peaceful conversation from earlier.

The lights had gone out. It would have been a positive event, granting everyone else a distraction and us more time to properly take our dresses off, hadn't I been the Sheriff. I let out an annoyed grunt, dreading the realization that, as such, I had to ensure the well-being of the citizens; which, in this case, consisted in calming everyone down and checking the electric panel. So I gave Regina one last kiss and let my lips linger upon hers for longer than normal, a silent promise that I would be back soon, and walked out of the room, the clicking of my heels echoing in the empty hallway.

I felt, rather than see, everyone turn their head my way as I burst into the ballroom, my presence given away by the sound of the doors slamming open; thankfully, my entrance also led to the complaints and grumbling to cease, allowing me to speak up.

"Everyone, listen to me," I announced, loud and clear. "This is nothing but a simple blackout; there's no need to panic whatsoever. I'll take a look at the switchboard myself, and the lights will be back on as soon as I figure out the problem. Just… nobody freak out, please!"

That said, I turned around, a stifled murmuring increasing in volume as I started to walk back out. My father's voice, however, made me stop.

"Emma!" he called out. "I'll go check the electric panel: you don't know where it is and, well, you don't know a thing about electricity. No offense."

"None taken… But how do you know anything about it? You've been in a coma for almost three decades. Did Dr. Whale teach you how to turn the power back on, just in case the machines that were keeping you alive suddenly shut down?"

"Ha ha. Very funny," he replied, and I swear I felt him roll his eyes. "Actually, your mother taught me, but I have no idea where she's gone."

"Eh, she's probably crying her eyes out because her precious party is ruined. She'll get over it."

He gave a small chuckle and left, and I followed him out the door, going back to the other room as he headed the opposite way.

"Well, that didn't take long at all," I heard, as soon as I stepped inside. "I'm surprised your mother didn't wreak all kinds of havoc, considering just how dedicated she was to organize this gathering."

I didn't retort at Regina's provocation, too disappointed for the abrupt interruption of our moment to be in the mood for a bicker.

I wasn't exactly aware of where she was, but being deprived of my sight, all of my other senses seemed to have been enhanced – my magic being one of them. I felt the skin of my left arm prickle, a silent clue as to where Regina was. I followed my instincts and soon enough she had reached out for me, her arms wrapping possessively around me; and I knew I wasn't the only one who had been disappointed by the interruption.

I leaned into her, resting my head on her shoulder and breathing in her scent, the natural trace of Regina only partially masked by the perfume she had put on for the occasion. I reflectively closed my eyes to better delight in the moment, although the difference was minimal: I couldn't see a thing either way.

What followed next happened in rapid succession, leaving me confused as ever.

The first thing I noticed was a change in Regina's posture: from relaxed and peaceful, it had turned into tense and on edge, worrying me by extension.

Then she turned us around, exchanging our positions so that I was now standing against the table and she had her back to the rest of the hall.

The faintest of gasps escaped her lips, right as the lights snapped back on. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of my mother falling to the floor behind her, and I didn't immediately register the clunk of metal against the marble tiles; both of those information had been entirely eclipsed by Regina collapsing against me, a last, faint breath exhaled as her watery eyes found mine, right before rolling to the back of her head and shutting close.

I wrapped my arms around her to hold her, and my hands covered in the warm, red liquid erupting from her back.