Zelena had scrupulously and deliberately mapped out each and every move for decades. Her eminent confrontation with Regina was one that she'd dreamt about endlessly and had envisioned many, many times during her daily rituals. The women had almost duked it out back in the Enchanted Forest, but Zelena had chosen to enact the new curse, thus bringing them back to Storybrooke. She wasn't stupid; the Witch knew it would be broken soon enough, but it gave her extra time to solidify her next moves.

Every little occurrence, every new face she encountered just became another part of her plan. Robin Hood was a convenient distraction for Regina; someone who could steer the brunette away from Zelena's trail. The red-haired woman hadn't anticipated for the thief to show up, but it sure came in handy. She watched the budding couple from afar, had the monkeys report their findings of the Queen and Mr. Hood. Granted, in this world, their relationship may not have been what it was, but Zelena was sure she'd find another way to toy with Regina.

When she found out about Gold's son, Zelena only saw Neal as her next victim. As her mentor had taught her, the best way to get to someone— to get them to follow orders— is to go after the one thing they hold most dear. For Rumplestiltskin, that was his boy. It had been quite easy, as well, getting the Dark One to kill his own son. With his dagger in her possession, all that she had to do was threaten him once, and the wizard did it. Before she knew it, she had born witness to a form of magic she'd never seen before, but one she wouldn't mind seeing again. The only remorse Zelena felt, was for the loss of such an attractive man.

And then came the notorious Savior— the child of Snow White and Prince Charming. Emma's reputation had preceded her in the Forest for those who had never met her. Word traveled exceeding quick from town to town of the triumphant blonde, the way she'd slayed a dragon with her father's sword, her ability to sense lies from anyone who even attempted to fib, and her growing magical powers. Zelena had no doubt that this stranger would be an opponent. If anything, she was counting on it. There was something between this warrior and Regina, Zelena figured. She didn't know just what it was, yet, but she would find out. When she did, the Witch couldn't wait to see how she could use the Savior against Regina. And, while she may not have been formally introduced to this adored blonde, but Zelena was sure that Emma was no match for her.

With just over 24 hours until game time, all Zelena needed to do was mentally prepare herself. When facing off against Regina, there was little doubt in her mind that she would win; the question was, how far would she go to come out as the victor? And, on the chance that she lost, what did that mean for all of Zelena's hard work?

Like any other family on a Saturday night, Regina, Emma, and Henry were at home, scattered around the enormous building that Regina owned. Dinner was still cooking in the oven, and the various inhabitants of the mayor's mansion did everything but sit idly by. Too much was going on in the world around them to ignore. In some way or another, they each were getting ready for the next day.

Henry sat cross-legged on his bed with The Book open in his lap. He read and re-read every line and every chapter, soaked up the information like a sponge, went onto the next story, and started over. Nowhere in the pages did it every make mention of another Mills daughter. Henry went through it a dozen times total, and nothing— absolutely nothing was ever said about Regina having a sister. Then again, The Book never really shed light on any of Regina's life, other than the fact that she had once been considered evil.

Already in his sweatpants and tee shirt, Henry set aside leather-bound artifact and took a tour of the rest of his room. School books were piled on top of his desk; subjects spanning from pre-algebra to physics, to English and poetry were tossed over one another. His canvass backpack was slung over the wooden chair and he grazed the hand-sewn letters of his initials; he could tell it had been made with great care and affection. He surveyed the blue and white-striped wallpaper and wished he could remember if he'd picked it out or not. Back in New York, his walls were covered in posters and pictures on printer paper. He couldn't even imagine choosing such a boring pattern.

When he'd seen all there was to see of his own room, Henry ventured out into the hallway and tiptoed over roll-out carpet. Everything was so neat and organized, not like his and Emma's place. There was not a speck of dust to be detected, no scratches on the white-painted walls, and definitely no stains in the rug. He didn't have to know much about Regina to know that she was a neat freak.

As he walked up and down the corridor, Henry came across some markings on the inside of his doorframe— pencil sketches he hadn't noticed before. Starting from about a foot and half off of the ground, were hand-drawn, seriously straight lines. On one end was a date; on the other was his name and an age. "March 24, 2002; Henry, one year." A few inches above it, "June 12, 2005; Henry four years." The taller Henry got, the more lines there were. And, when the lines stopped, there was a lone marking three quarters of the way to the top. "March first, 2014; Regina." There was no age, but that didn't matter to Henry. He was just trying to figure out why the woman would have tracked her own height.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Regina moved about the kitchen like a fly. One moment she was grabbing for something in the fridge, the next she was pulling a glass tray out from the stove. She was a one-woman wonder, though she'd deny it if anyone had the gaul to say it to her face. Regina flitted through the open space gracefully; she made fresh apple cider, set the table with exactly the right amount of plates and silverware, and even put away the clean dishes, all without using magic. Ordinarily, she'd have called Henry down to assist her, but tonight, she didn't want to interrupt his deep thinking. He was still getting used to being in a new place, much less assuming the role of her son all over again. Regina didn't want to put a cramp in his processing. The same went for Emma; the Queen's sympathy outweighed her silent yearning for company and she really didn't mind. Regina was used to be being alone. The only difference was now, she wasn't totally on her own; she was just… consciously separating herself.

With her son dawdling upstairs, and the woman she couldn't stop thinking about creating a meal for them, Emma sat in the den with a glass of hard cider. Knowing full well that Regina would rebuke her for having her feet on the couch, Emma did it anyway. She brought her knees close to her chest and let her mind drift away from the craziness of today. Everything from guilt to contentment floated around in her head and heart as she disconnected from the rest of the household. First and foremost, though, Emma was confused.

There was no questioning her grief over Neal, the father of her child and a man she would have died for at one point in her life. They had a long and messy history together, but that's what made it work; that's why she cared about him so much. If anyone had asked, Emma would have said that she regretted nothing about her relationship with Neal, which was true. All that they'd gone through together had lead them to this point, including his passing. The only thing she would have changed would be getting a chance to say goodbye.

And then, there was the confusion. Keeping in mind her feelings towards Neal, her feelings towards Regina crept into Emma's spirit. Here she was, not even a day after Neal had died, and she was already crushing on another person. Scratch that— she was already in love with another person. However, to be fair, this wasn't some sudden newsflash for Emma. If she were thinking about it clearly and rationally, she'd see that it hadn't happened over night. This had been coming for a long time, even before she found Neal again. Her and Regina— they had their own history between them. It wasn't a full or as messy as hers and Neal's, but it was theirs. It was something she and Regina could share, other than Henry.

Each time Emma sipped from her stout glass, the ice slid into one another and sent a shiver down her neck, all the way to the base of her back. Goosebumps rose over her biceps and forearms, but she wasn't bothered by it. It only lasted for a second, and soon, Emma was thinking about Regina again. Whatever went down Sunday night, she was not going to let Regina get hurt. She didn't care if she had to shoot this Wicked Witch until she was out of bullets, Emma was going to do something. She'd never been the type of person who was ok with being a bystander; she had to get in on the action.

"Dinner's ready!" Regina announced through the halls; her thick, guttural voice echoing like a melody. Emma waited until she heard Henry trampling down the stairs to stand up. "Not so fast! You'll trip!" Regina reprimanded.

The blonde grinned to herself as she listened to Henry mumble an obedient, "Yes ma'am." She'd told her son countless times not run through their apartment, and she hardly ever received a "Yes ma'am," let alone a "Sure." Then, Emma stopped short as she realized those "countless times" were nothing more than a couple mentions over the last year. And, for a fleeting second, Emma felt resentment towards Regina for giving her memories of such a perfect life only to have it ripped away from her in an instant.

Before she could sink even deeper into the hole of emotions, Emma gulped down the last bit of liquid courage, made sure the velvet pouch was securely tucked into her pocket, and commanded her legs to carry her forward. She followed the trail of light from the kitchen, straight down the corridor, and entered the room with a wry smile. Henry was already at the table, hungrily eyeing the lasagna that Regina put in the middle. "Wow… this looks…"

"Amazing!" Henry finished Emma's sentence. "Totally beats pizza!"

Swatting the boy with an oven mitt she swiped from the counter, the blonde took her spot across from Henry. "I thought you liked pizza."

"I do, but Mom, look," her son gestured to the freshly-served meal. "It's not from a box!" Stifling a proud grin, Regina sat at the head of the table yet again and folded her napkin perfectly. It was weird; this almost felt normal for her. Sitting with Henry and Emma, passing food around to one another, watching the way he and the sheriff joked with each other— it all seemed so innocent, so… comfortable. "Oh man, this is good," Henry moaned as he shoved another forkful into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's and there was red sauce on the corners of his lips, but neither Emma or Regina told him. They both found it adorable.

"I'm glad you like it," Regina said. "If only everyone was so easy to win over."

"I doubt everyone's had this," Emma chuckled, in agreement with Henry. "I gotta say, this is really good."

"Well, thank you," the brunette half-whispered as she cleared her throat. Accepting compliments was foreign territory for Regina, especially when they came from Emma. "Henry," she said, switching the focus onto him, "I've been meaning to apologize for my behavior earlier today. It was immature and disrespectful to you… and Emma."

From below, Emma felt a scream-worthy kick in her shin as Regina rammed the tip of her high heels into her. "Yeah, me too," the blonde blurted. "I shouldn't have cussed in front of you."

"You're adults," Henry brushed off. "Adults get mad… maybe not about fighting witches, but it's cool. No worries." The growing, young adult devoured the rest of his plate in just a few bites, already helping himself to another serving. He ran his napkin over his face once, which only smeared the sauce from his mouth to his chin, and caused Emma to break out in laughter. "What?" he asked.

Not as easily amused, though she found it sweet, Regina took her own towel and moved to clear the mess. When Henry dodged her reach, the brunette was suddenly reminded of her true role for the time being. "Excuse me," she retracted, going stiff. "You… you had some food right here," Regina rubbed a thumb over her own chin. "I'm sorry."

Scrubbing his skin with the back of his hand, Henry moved onto bigger and better topics. "So, what else happens in this town? I mean, other than being invaded by a witch and all?"

"What hasn't happened?" Emma snorted, holding her cold cider to her head. That was a great question, everyone would admit. Where to begin, what to tell Henry that wouldn't make him flip his wig even more, Emma didn't know. She'd filled him in on as much as she could handle the night before, but in reality, it hadn't been very much; just information about the town and who people really were. She hadn't gone into a ton of details. Emma watched as Regina pushed aside her square of lasagna with her fork and knife, taking in the suffering in the Queen's chestnut eyes. "What would you say if I told you that we met Peter Pan?" Emma asked Henry.

"No way! Like, the guy who never ages?" Mr. Mills perked up.

"Yeah, him. Only, uh, he wasn't as nice as Disney made him seem. He uh… he was kinda evil," the blonde muttered. "And, um, he was your great-grandfather."

"Uh… seriously?" Henry's head fell a few inches as he let his jaw open wide, and not out of hunger. He looked to Regina, a way to reengage her in the conversation, and dragged her back in. "Is that for real?"

As if she hadn't realized he was talking to her, Regina didn't answer the first time. She was too lost in her own melancholy to have heard Emma and Henry. "Isn't that right, Regina?" It was the Savior's turn to kick Regina under the table. When she was sure she got the woman's attention, Emma scooped up her scraps casually. "The Kid's got a wacky family tree, doesn't he?"

"Oh, ye— yes," Regina sputtered. "Yes, you've got relative all around town it would seem."

"That's what you meant…" Henry zeroed in on Regina. "When you said I'd have more family than I knew what to do with— you meant everyone… you meant you?"

Not entirely sure of what Henry was referring to, Emma turned from mother to son and let them have their staring contest. She could see the gears just beginning to grind in Henry's mind, and she knew he was thinking carefully about something. It must have had to do with their time together the other day; when Regina took Henry for ice cream.

Amidst the deafening silence, heavy raindrops pounded against the windows like a stampede; strong winds sent the shutters clattering against the house and tree limbs were thrust against the glass barriers. Lightning struck intermittently and clashes of thunder rang through the town like an angry ogre on a vendetta. Cars honking at each other and Pongo's ferocious barking filled in the few voids between the howling cries of the night's sky. The overhead lights flickered on and off a couple of times before cutting out completely, leaving the trio to fend for themselves in the dark. He wouldn't admit it, but Henry was starting to get a bit anxious.

Quick on her feet, Emma retrieved her cellphone and used it as a flashlight; she shined it over the table and back and forth from Henry to Regina. Both of the darker-haired beings were unharmed. "Oh yeah, I guess you can add freak storms to the list of what happens," Emma mused. Summoning a ball of white luminescence into her open palm, Regina got up and peeked through the window, out to the streets. The image was distorted by the precipitation on the surface, but she could just make out the neon lights of Main Street. Nobody in their right minds were walking around in this weather, but that didn't totally assuage her instinctive worry. "Regina, where's the fuse box?"

"The what?" Mrs. Mills replied absentmindedly. By now, Henry joined her at her side and he too gazed out at the desolate town.

"You know, the thing that turns the lights back on," Emma said somewhat impatiently. She'd never been quite fond of the dark. It wasn't a fear, so much as it was a… superstition; nothing good ever came out of it. The sheriff stood at the end of the table with her phone guiding her forward. She let a few seconds go by before allowing herself get drawn to the window. Sticking her chin over Henry's head and maintaing a safe distance from Regina, Emma scanned the blustery roads and flooded sidewalks. The last of the electronic store signs shut off and the small strip of Storybrooke had never looked so gloomy— not even when Gold gave his life to kill Pan.

With her device out in front of her, Emma caught Regina's furrowed brow in her reflection. But, before she could prod the brunette, Regina spun around; the floating, weightless source of light still in her possession. "Right, the buttons marked with the rooms. It's in the washroom." Saying nothing, she briskly strode down the hall, followed by Emma and Henry, and lead them to the last opening on the left.

Emma surveyed the small, cold enclosure with a keen eye. A washing machine and dryer were pushed next to one another, in about as pristine shape as one would imagine. Even the laundry detergent was organized on the shelf above the appliances. Two wicker baskets sat in the corner, not a shred of wood out of place. And, on the wall across from the door, was a gunmetal gray square with a black handle. Emma slid past her host and opened the straight-edged body.

12 switches, six on each side, were marked with stickers. Every single room that had a working current was connected to this little machine. Emma slid her finger down the middle until she landed on the lever with "Kitchen" written in cursive. "Kid, stand in the hall and lemme know if it works, ok?" When she heard Henry's clompy footsteps, she pushed down on the tiny bar and held her breath. "Anything?"

"Nope," Henry shook his head, although Emma couldn't see it.

Trying again, the blonde flicked it off and back on. "Now?"

"Uh uh."

"Great," Emma grumbled to herself. Turning back to Regina, she chewed on her tongue. "Looks like we're out of power for the night. Got any candles?"

Her face illuminated by the glowing sphere of magic, Regina glanced up at the Savior with a suspicious expression. "I have a better idea. Here, do what I do." She made her way to the circuit board and searched the technological contraption. As much as she wished for an old-fashioned kerosene lamp, Regina had just figured out a way an easier solution. Closing the cover, the mayor placed her hand over the metal door and Emma did the same. "Remember; think about what you want to happen and it will." The two women shut their eyes and while Emma hunched forward, Regina stayed with her spine straightened.

Within seconds, all of the lights in the home returned and Emma let go. When she got her breathing under control, she gawked at the fuse box and then at Regina. "Well that was new."

The last few hours of Saturday night dwindled away before any of them knew it. Henry was the first to finish his supper, only so that he could attack Emma and Regina with questions about magic. For now, Regina wasn't going to be the party crasher; she'd much rather let Emma's confidence in her powers grow at an even rate. Telling the blonde she brought the electricity back all on her own was a discussion for another time.

After dinner, neither of the individuals stayed up too much longer. As eager as he was to know more, Henry wanted to return to his room and get back to reading. It came as a shock to Emma, mostly. The Henry that she had false memories of, the one she thought she raised, hated to read— absolutely loathed the activity. But, hey, you tell a kid his entire family's history is in one book, and bam! He can't put it down.

Before sprinting up to bed, though, Henry paused at the base of the stairs and backpedaled to the kitchen. "Madame May— Um, Regina?"

"Yes?" The Queen let the transparent tray slip into the pool of soapy water and dried her hands on her apron. Emma was just putting the leftovers in the fridge when she heard Henry.

"I was just wondering… are you, like, scared about tomorrow?" Henry inquired after clearing his throat. "You know, about the fight with whatsername?"

"Not at all," Regina said without missing a beat. "She's the one who should be afraid," she winked.

Lacking his other mother's superpower, Henry gave a relieved sigh and smiled at the older woman. "Cool. Uh, thanks for dinner. Goodnight!" And just like that, the Mills-Swan boy galloped up the staircase— without tripping— and left the mothers alone. This time, he wasn't even close to being in earshot.

As Regina finished putting the dishes in the washer, Emma narrowed her eyes at the dutiful figure. "He might've believed you, Regina, but I know I don't."

Pressing the start button, Regina untied her smock and picked the lint off of her shirt. "Believe what you wish, but my answer won't change." The gurgling engine next to her almost detracted from the intensity of the moment— almost. She lingered by the sink just a bit longer, though she didn't have an exact reason why. It was a combination of wanting to be around Emma, and not wanting to be alone because to be honest, she was kind of scared.

"Thank you for you tonight," Emma uttered somberly. "I would've probably spent this time at a bar getting really hammered or… something. Not with people I care about."

Not letting herself get too excited, Regina contained her fluttering heart. "You're welcome. I… I'm sorry the peace won't last for too long."

Absorbing Regina's radiance before heading off to sleep, Emma merely said, "I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

"Well, this is my house."

"Right, right," the Savior nodded. Getting ready to leave was like bracing one's self to rip of a bandaid— the large, square kind with the extra adhesive. "Goodnight, Regina," Emma finally whispered.

Waiting until after the woman had disappeared from her line of view, Regina said to herself, "Goodnight, Emma."

A/N - I'm so sorry about that! I don't remember pasting the last part twice! And here I thought I'd moved past careless mistakes! Sorry! Thanks for letting me know! More to come soon! And definitely some real action in the near future! Thanks for the follows and reviews, dearies!