No matter how much Emma liked to delude herself into thinking it, she was not invincible. Her scuffle with the oak tree a couple weeks back proved that. She figured that a week in the hospital was fine for full recovery, so the fact that there was still soreness there bothered her. She did not want to have to give up acting in Twelfth Night all for a stupid cramp; she had worked so hard and she did not want to let Henry down. And if she was being completely honest with herself and her feelings—which she hardly ever was, because she liked to keep all of her feelings at bay—she didn't want to let Regina down either.

The past two months with the uptight Mayor had been exasperating, to say the least, but Emma had seen another side of Regina. She would catch glimpses of a softer, more human Regina, and she really liked what she saw. In their last rehearsal, they had a moment like that. Emma remembered it vividly. In the moment when Regina had pleaded with her to stay in character and forget that they were enemies, she had seen that Regina was not so different from her. That thought scared her initially, of course. She did not want to compare herself to Regina, not in her most horrible nightmares. But she saw that they were both women who were scared to trust, scared to feel; and that they both had spent most of their lives keeping anything akin to romance far away.

The Fall Festival was a grand affair for the people of Storybrooke; there were vendors selling food, like frozen bananas dipped in chocolate and tater pigs, (a sausage encased in a baked potato) and local musicians coming to play and show off their talents. Artists sold crafts mantelpieces, paintings and knick knacks, and there was an area for kids to play. Emma got off work early to drive over to Garrett Park and change into her costume, where the rest of the Shakespeare troupe was.

Stanley Ross, the man who was Sebastian in the play, looked happy to see Emma and helped her tie her hair back as she applied her stage makeup. The stage was outside, which was nice because it was only September so it wasn't too cold yet. It gave a nice feel to everything, and the trees were starting to turn orange and purple. Emma would remember to look at them if she got too nervous. She was really nervous now. She had never acted in a play before—well, unless you counted a Christmas Pageant she was in when she was five. She had played on of the angels in the choir and all she had to do was sing.

Not really something you could put on an acting portfolio, Emma mused. Stanley noticed that she was sweating profusely, and he laughed.

"Careful, you might sweat off your makeup." He gently turned her around to face him and touched her face gently with a cotton swab to stop the sweat. His eyes were soft, pliable, and he gazed into hers, which made her exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Um…yeah, thanks." She turned around to face the mirror again.

"So…I heard about what happened a couple weeks ago," Stanley mumbled shyly. "That was really brave of you, saving that woman. I'm sorry about your injury."

"Yeah, well, it's my job as Sherriff." Emma shrugged it off, not liking where this conversation was going.

"To help an old woman find her umbrella in the middle of a storm?" Stanley rose his eyebrows. "I don't think that was necessary."

"Well, I don't have a death wish, if that's what you're worried about." Emma snapped.

Stanley stepped back, putting up his hands in defense mode. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that—I just—I just think what you did was nice, and I was wondering if sometime…maybe you and I could—"

"Sherriff Swan." Regina's voice cut through what Stanley was saying and for the first time in her life, Emma was glad that Regina was around.

Thank God, Emma thought as she turned around, seeing Regina in her costume. She didn't look like herself at all—it was like someone had finally pulled the stick that was lodged so tightly up her ass. She looked nice.

Her dress was black, because the character Olivia was supposed to be in mourning, but black definitely suited Regina. There was a black veil attached at the top of Regina's head, and the dress had puffed sleeves and the skirt ran down Regina's legs beautifully. She wore boots that accentuated every curve in her calves. Emma cleared her throat, hoping Regina would not catch her staring. She forced herself to meet Regina's eyes and tried to sound annoyed, not grateful.

"What do you want, Regina?"

"I was hoping you would make sure Miss Blanchard sits with Henry. I do not want him to sit alone."

Emma smiled. "Okay, I'll call her." She looked at Stanley with an apologetic look and said, "Maybe we could talk later?"

Stanley nodded awkwardly and watched her walk away with Regina.

"Thank you." The words were out of Emma's mouth before she could stop them, and they hung in the air around her and Regina until Emma cleared her throat and looked away, ashamed. Regina did not say anything for a full five seconds.

"You are thanking me?" Yes, Captain Obvious. "Whatever for?" Regina looked at the blonde, confusion and suspicion painted on her face.

Emma flushed. She figured that Regina knew what she was doing, knew that Stanley was about to ask her out, and that's why she had interrupted. Obviously she was wrong.

"Oh, um…that guy Stanley was um…you know, what? Never mind. Let me call Mary Margaret." She stepped away from Regina and leant against a tree, hearing the phone ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mary Margaret, it's Emma. Regina wanted me to ask you if you could sit with Henry during the play. It starts at 4:30. I know it's a lot to ask, but—"

"No, that's fine! I will be there—I'm excited to see it!"

Emma hung up, her nerves suddenly disappearing. She would get through this, for Henry.

FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER

Henry did not like being dragged around to the different booths, looking at useless things he found no interest or beauty in whatsoever. Every five minutes he would beg his mom to let him go to the kid's area and make something out of wood—there was a woodshop, and Marco was in charge. She relented, because it was time for her to change into her costume anyway. She told him to stay at the kid's area and she would come find him before the play.

She went to the stage and walked around the back, where makeshift dressing rooms had been set up. Her costume was waiting for her by the door and she smiled as she looked at it. She would look fantastic in this. She slipped it on quickly, loving how it hugged all of her curves, and it reminded her of the dresses she wore in the other world. It was familiar, yet the memories brought pains that she did not want to deal with. Not now.

She stepped out of the dressing room and heard two people talking to her right. She looked over at the Sherriff putting on the last of her makeup, dressed in a simple frock and a nice vest, with sleeves that billowed out. Regina shook her head. She did NOT find Miss Swan attractive. She was her enemy, they were just acting together in a play. Where she, Olivia, loved her. And they had to kiss. Regina shook her head again, more violently. This was not helping. Neither was the conversation that Regina was hearing. It appeared that buffoon of a man, Stanley Ross, was flirting with Sherriff Swan.

Unwanted waves of jealousy wracked through Regina, almost making her clutch her stomach in pain. Her breath became shallow; she did not know what the hell was happening to her. Why did this woman evoke such strong emotions from her? She prided herself on her control, on her icy disdain and total dominance, yet she felt so powerless as her eyes raged when Stanley put his hands on Emma's shoulders and turned her around. Her skin prickled as he practically fell all over her, saying she was brave. The final straw was when he said "maybe you and I could—" Regina certainly did not want to hear the end of that sentence, so she spoke, rather loudly, in her usual authoritative tone.

"Sherriff Swan." The words came out, rushed, urgent, because she knew she needed to say them. She needed to save Emma from this man who was not really that attractive, anyway. She was far more attractive…she should be the one who—

She would not permit herself the finish the thought. Instead she focused on Emma, watching her as she rolled her eyes and turned to look at her. She smiled to herself as she felt Emma's eyes take in her dress.

"What do you want, Regina?" Emma asked, seemingly tired and annoyed.

Regina had to think of something. Fast. "I was hoping you would make sure Miss Blanchard sits with Henry. I do not want him to be sitting alone." There, great response time, Regina congratulated herself.

Emma looked oddly relieved at this point. "Okay, I'll call her."

Regina walked ahead of Emma, hearing her mumble something to Stanley about catching up with him later, and that flood of jealousy washed over her again. It was annoying, Regina thought, that she, the Evil Queen, the person capable of cursing a whole world to another, was now letting her feelings dictate her actions. How weak she felt!

And yet, when Emma thanked her, her head buzzed and she felt like she was floating. She could not let Emma see that, though. When Emma turned away, she schooled her expression into one of indifference and confusion.

"You are thanking me? Whatever for?" It was cruel, she knew. She did not care at this point. What else could she do? Confess her feelings for the Sherriff, get rejected and make a total ass of herself? That was not an option.

Sherriff Swan started to mutter something unintelligible. Then she went and called Miss Blanchard.

Regina sighed in relief. She had dodged that bullet. So why did she still feel like she was in danger? And why did guilt prickle at her?

Gayle Bernard clambered onto the stage, taking in the moderately sized crowd splayed out on the grass. She smiled, and took the microphone.

"Welcome, everyone, the the 10th annual Storybrooke Fall Festival! We have a special treat for you today—we are putting on Shakespeare's Twelfth Night or What you Will, and I hope you all enjoy it!" With that, Gayle jumped off the stage and turned the microphone off.

Emma took a deep breath and walked out onto the stage, hoping against hope that her knees would not buckle, or that she wouldn't have a heart attack at the sight of all the people watching her every move. She knew for a fact that picturing them naked wouldn't work, because Henry was part of the audience. How gross would that be? So she decided she would just pretend no one was there, and think of the 'four wall' concept that Gayle had talked about. She spoke, trying to enunciate loud and clear.

"What country, friends, is this?"

"This is Illyria, Lady." Frank, whose character was the captain of the ship, answered.

"And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium." Emma tried so hard to feel Viola's pain, to channel the angst deep inside of herself. She suddenly had a flash image in her mind of Regina, a look of indifference on her face. Regina, who, after Emma had saved the woman's freaking life, just complained. Regina, who made Emma's life a living hell.

Emma could channel pain and sorrow just fine.

The play went perfectly until Cesario and Andrew Aguecheek's fight scene. To her dismay Emma had been having bouts of pain sweep through her ribs and abdomen, so painful that at times she found herself doubling over and gasping for air. She had been getting fainter with every scene, and even though she could put on a brave face and muddle through, Regina had noticed how pale Emma was. And she did not like it.

"Emma, you're on in one minute." Gayle informed her. Emma plastered on a smile and right when the director's back was turned, she groaned in pain. Regina did not like seeing Emma in this much pain, which told her she was turning into a big softie. But that did not matter. She did not want to sit and watch Emma put herself through more anguish. It was admirable how she was powering through this, all for Henry. Emma walked out onto the stage and the Mayor watched anxiously. The Sherriff was getting whiter by the minute and the other actors were starting to realize something was up. Emma was so stupid sometimes, Regina mused. Why did she torture herself like this? The blonde had raised her sword, ready for the stage fight, and that's when it happened.

She fainted.

Before Regina's brain could register that her body was moving, she was on the stage, cradling Emma's head in her lap. Gayle rushed out onto the stage, and the audience started to murmur nervously. Emma was out cold. Regina started to push on her chest, administering CPR. She didn't notice the tears welling up in her eyes and didn't care that there were a hundred people watching. She opened Emma's mouth and placed her lips on the blonde's, pushing as much air as she could into the other woman's lungs. Soon Henry was beside her, along with Miss Blanchard, begging for Emma to wake up. Regina continued to breathe air into Emma's body.

Miraculously, the blonde choked out air and her eyes opened, the other actors sighing in relief. Emma looked up at Regina, who was still holding her head in an almost affectionate way. Regina quickly shifted her body, straightening up.

Emma groaned. "Why does this shit keep happening to me?"

"Maybe because you're cursed," Regina said grimly.