Author's Note: Okay, so I should've had this up a few days ago but I ran into a few issues. Apart from failing math and drowning in work, I'm having a little bit of trouble coming up with the next parts for this story. I know what I want to happen, but I'm having difficulties getting to that point. *long dramatic sigh*

As always, I love hearing from you all and will be responding to feedback and messages very soon. Thank you all so much for your continued interest in this story. LOVE YOUUUU!

Oh, and I don't own anything Once Upon A Time related :(

Chapter Thirteen: One Small Step At A Time

A surge of emotion bloated the younger womans brain, smushing the tender organ painfully against her skull. It wasn't until the pain became too unbearable, peppering her consciousness with impending blackness, did Emma reluctantly pull away. With eyelids at half mast, Emma inhaled deeply, the scent of Regina Mills filled her nose. A heady scent of bitchiness, betrayal, and just a dash of apple.

"That…" Emma opened her eyes fully. "Just wow."

"Your ability to form complete sentences is truly astonishing."

"Are saying it was bad?" Emma questioned, smirking playfully at the brunette.

"I - no,"

"So it was good then?" A childish smile played on pink lips.

"Miss Swan," Regina warned.

"Angry?"

"Seething."

"Sooo…" Emma trailed off.

"So, what, Miss Swan?"

"That was uhh...awkward?"

"For once you and I agree on something."

Emma brought a finger to her lip absentmindedly tracing the place where Regina's own lips had been just a moment ago. It felt...surreal. Like one of those realistic dreams that leave you questioning if that events that transpired could have been real because god damn if you couldn't feel it.

Tearing herself away from the situation in front her, Regina turned on her heels and without another word walked back into the bathroom and shut the door with a bang.

"Hey what're you doing!" Emma called out, walking up to the door and leaning her ear against it but not tempting to open the only barrier between herself and Regina.

"Cleaning your mess." The response was cold.

"You uhh...want me to help?" Emma asked, shrinking inside her own skin at the way Regina's mood switched so drastically.

Like a fucking light switch. On or off, no in between.

An audible scoff was heard from behind the door before it was wrenched open so quickly Emma nearly lost her balance and struggled for a moment regain her footing.

The Mayor regarded her quite comically as the blondes cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

"Are you feeling okay, dear?"

"I'm fine, why?" Emma scrunched her face in confusion.

"Well you offered to help clean. I was beginning to worry that you were delirious with the fever again."

"Oh ha fucking ha, Regina," Emma rolled her eyes dramatically and crossed her arms in front of her. "I'm not a complete slob."

Another scoff.

"What!?" The blonde threw her hands in the air. "I'm not!"

"Of course you're not, dear," Regina patted her head condescendingly.

Emma's nostrils flared.

"You're such an ass," Emma muttered, throwing Regina's hand back into her chest.

"You're an ass kisser."

Emma's mouth fell open, flabbergasted beyond imagination. Did Regina god damn Mills just crack a joke? Her jaws opened and closed multiple times yet no sounds fell out. Emma was - in a word - speechless.

Regina smiled triumphantly; glad that she had finally managed to shut the Sheriff up, but also inwardly desiring to take a bath to scrub the crassness of her words from her skin.

Then Emma laughed, not a dramatic laugh or a sarcastic one. It was a laugh that sounded as though it should be shared between two companions innocently antagonizing the other.

A laughter of friendship.

"Sass master, Regina Mills," Emma shook her head, overcome with a feeling that she couldn't put into words.

"I'm sorry, what?" Regina quipped, raising her brows.

"Nothing," Emma laughed, still shaking her head and backing away from the door.

"If you don't mind, Miss Swan, I'd like to get this mess cleaned up before my tiles become permanently stained with your blood."

"Oh, right. Okay, well I'll just uhh...watch TV or something," Emma looked around the room only to find there wasn't a TV available. "Or not."

"There's an entertainment room down the hall on the left."

Emma nodded and turned to leave but swiveled on her heal quite suddenly.

"Oh, by the way, have you seen my phone anywhere?" She asked.

"No."

Regina's response was automatic; short and quick. She worried for a moment that the Sheriff would sense the lie, but Regina kept her face composed showing no signs of deceit.

"Damn, okay, well if you see it lying around let me know, I guess," Emma said then turned and walked out of the room, leaving the Mayor with a bloody mess to clean.

She almost felt guilty about it. Almost. But she did offer to help clean. It's the thought that counts, right?

Emma had barely made it into the hallway before she completely lost it. Inhaling deeply, the blonde leaned against the wall, running her hands through her frazzled hair. She knew it was only a matter of time before she lost her composure. The threat was looming in the corner of her mind since the second she broke away from the kiss. The loss of composure would have happened sooner had she not deflected from the elephant in the room with her childish antics.

"I kissed her…" Emma whispered aloud. It was like one of those unbelievable epiphanous moments. "I fucking kissed her. Jesus christ what the hell is wrong with me?"

Frustration rolled off her in waves as she fought the overwhelming urge to slam her fist into the wall. Repeatedly.

"God how could I be so stupid!" Emma rhetorically cursed herself for her impulsive nature while throwing her head back against the wall. Maybe that would knock some sense into her, though she highly doubted it. That same action had been done at least a hundred times previously and she clearly hadn't learned her lesson because what does she go an do? Oh, right, something impulsively stupid like kissing the god damn Mayor.

Emma's body slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her legs drawn up to her chest and forehead resting on her knees so that all she could see was the darkness of provided by her defeated position.

Calm down, it was just a kiss.

She scoffed. Calm down? Calm down!? How!? That wasn't just a kiss. Just a kiss is what happens between two random strangers in a bar prior to a regrettable hookup. Just a kiss is something shared between 15 year olds before carelessly tossing their virginity down the shitter. Just a kiss is the last second of engagement and simultaneously the first second of marriage. No, what they had done was not just a kiss.

You're right. It wasn't just a kiss. It was an unexpected, unwarranted, and unnecessary display of misplaced affection. There. Better?

Well, when you put it like that...no! That doesn't make it better at all. It may have been unexpected, unwarranted, and unnecessary but it didn't feel misplaced. Hell, the woman had pretty much just said the nicest things she'd ever heard anyone say. What was she supposed to do? Stand there like a deer in headlights?

No dumbass, you say something!

Right. Because surely an endless string of vocal pauses, expletives, and other non-lexical conversation sounds is the best way to sum up what she was feeling. Emma was never even remotely eloquent with her speech and what would make this situation any different?

So you kiss her?

God damn right! It's the first thing she thought to do. The real cause for concern was why kissing the woman was the first thing on her mind. And how it came so...naturally. And how she would have gladly done it again. And again. And again.

Emma groaned as the realization smacked her in the face with a force comparable to a semi utterly destroying a Smart Car.

"Oh fuck me nine knots north," Emma muttered, throwing her head back into the wall again. "I kissed the Mayor...and I liked it."

Damn it Katy Perry!

Once all the glass had been picked up from the floor, the bloody mess wasn't all that bad to clean. Only an Evil Queen would think such a thing. Anyone else probably would have lost their lunch at the mere sight. But Regina had seen plenty of bloodshed in her days. And one a scale from crushing hearts to slaughtering villages, this little bathroom debacle didn't even get an honorable mention.

Plus, Regina desperately needed to put some space between herself and the blonde. Had she been thinking properly, that kiss would have never happened. No way in hell. The fact of the matter was that she was not thinking properly.

The Mayor's preoccupation with her twisted desires had - whether consciously or not - been influencing many of her decisions and reactions since the formation of her plan just the previous night. But just how far was she willing to take it? Where does one draw the line?

Regina was sure that the Sheriff's overly affectionate behavior was born from a lifetime of never knowing kindness. If she were correct in her assumptions, then gaining Emma's trust would be that much simpler. If all it took were a few words of faux praise then Regina would have no problems whatsoever convincing the blonde that she wasn't the monster everyone thought her to be.

Yet therein lies the danger. If, for some inexplicable reason, Emma became...attached to that facade and god forbid made it into something more than it truly was, then it would only hurt her in the end. Possibly irreparably. Because once Regina got was she desired, she would have no further use for the Sheriff. Then what?

One step at a time. Gaining Emma's trust was the first of many steps to come. And from the way things had played out moments ago, Regina was doing just fine in that department. One small step at a time.

Scrub, scrub, scrub. The repetitive motion on the floor did wonders for the cleanliness of the place. Sadly the same couldn't be said for the Mayor's train of thought. Just as soon as she pushed her worries from her mind, memories of that god forsaken kiss surfaced once more.

It was just a kiss.

Regina knew that to be true. Nothing but an impulsive, misplaced gesture of appreciation. It had taken her by surprise, that much was true. But other than that, it meant nothing. And as much as she wished it could be scrubbed from her mind as easily as the blood came off the linoleum floor, such luck was not bestowed upon her. Nonetheless, she swore to be prepared next time. To be more conscious of her own actions because it never would have happened if she just kept her distance. She should have just let the good-for-nothing-other-than-my-personal-gain woman slide into another hallucination.

Plus it wasn't even that good.

Sass came naturally even to her subconscious. Truth be told, it was pretty damn sloppy. All dried lipped and wet-faced; definitely far from enjoyable. But not exactly bad either. Bad would have been the term to describe Graham's inability to kiss. The man had practically attempted to swallow her entire damn face. Emma's was bad but in a different way; a way of desperation.

The moon was full, hoisted high in the sky; above the clouds and above the trees, smiling haughtily on the lands below. A gentle breeze whispered in the darkness, stirring pillows of stagnant fog into rippling currents.

A chill bit at her cloak, desperate to cause discomfort, and succeeding in doing so as Emma shivered violently and pulled the meager fabric tighter around her. In the distance, there was a light; so warm, so inviting. Her body acted on autopilot, gravitating towards the light emanating through the cracks of a worn and weather beaten structure.

As she came closer, a smell similar to that of the state fair permeated the autumn air. The wind carried the unmistakable sounds of equine braying and a whisper of voices. One male, one female. No, one male and two females. She was still too far to hear the words that were being spoken, but an insatiable curiosity compelled her feet forwards. Crouching low to remain unseen, Emma snuck up to the stable, squatting beneath one of the larger windows.

"Daniel, if you want to have a life together, a family… then, there's one important lesson I can impart on you. It's what it means to be a parent. You always have to do what's best for your children," the aged voice whispered from inside the stable.

"Thank you. I understand. Because that's what you're doing now," the man responded.

From inside the stable, the voices were becoming faint as the sound of shoes on hay strode away from the window. Curiosity was bound to be her greatest undoing, as Emma shifted so that her eyes could just barely take in the scene before her. The weight of guilt pressed down on her as Emma knew she should not be seeing this particular series of events. Taking in the pale faces of a beautiful young woman, the same from her previous dream, as tears of happiness swam in her chocolate eyes and of a man, strong and homely smiling from ear to ear. Suddenly, Emma Swan felt like a ratchet siteen year old boy peeking into the girls locker room.

Peeping Swan.

The older woman, looking poised and confident, smiled and nodded her head.

"Yes, it is," she affirmed.

Emma felt like crying at the heartwarming scene playing before her eyes. It was like she was watching a sappy romantic comedy and end was drawing near. When the guy would get the girl - or vice versa - and then roll credits with some alarmingly catchy pop tune that was bound to be overplayed within two weeks time.

And then, all at the same time, a heartwrenching shriek pierced the night along with a grunt of pain, and a sick squelching noise. The best way she could describe it was like when she was a child disemboweling a pumpkin of its innards and squeezing the slimy guts of the vegetable between her fingers.

Emma's eyes focused just in time to see the older woman, a wicked smile plastered on her face, pulling her hand back from the mans chest. And in her hand was a glowing, pulsating mass. The man immediately fell to a heap on the hay as the younger woman, tears now flowing freely down her face, fell next to him.

"No! No, no no no!," The younger woman screamed, cupping the mans face and bringing his crumpled body into her lap.

The beautiful brunette looked up at the older woman. In that moment, she looked so small, so weak, so broken beyond the point of repair.

But the older woman sneered at her as if she were some pathetic mongrel; all skin and bones scouring the gutters for scraps of rotten meat. And then she returned her attention to the throbbing organ in her hand. And she squeezed. The man cried out in agony, his one hand clutching at his chest while the other wrapped around the nape of the young woman's neck.

Then he went motionless, limbs dropping to his side like an anchor to the sea floor. Dust trickled from between the older womans fingers and drifted into the wind; weightless and unimportant.

"Mother! Why have you done this?" The young woman's words barely comprehensible through her tears of anguish.

"Oh, you have to trust me, Regina. I know best. Love is weakness, Regina. It feels real now. At the start, it always does. But, it's an illusion. It fades. And then, you're left with nothing. But power, true power, endures. And then, you don't have to rely on anyone to get what you want. I've saved you, my love."

With those final words, the older woman turned on her heal, leaving behind a dead man and a dying daughter in the stable as she strode pompously back to the imposing castle in the distance.

"I loved him," Came the choked cry from the brunette.

Emma could take nowmore. The hand that was slapped over her mouth as she watched the horrific scene unfold before her was removed slowly. How could someone do something so heinous - so evil - to such a beautiful woman? How could a mother literally destroy her daughter without a care in the world.

The brunette lie there, clutching at the fabric of the man's clothing, her chest heaving and her sobs coming out with such intensity, Emma was sure the young woman would throw up her lungs. She had to do something. Anything. Whoever this woman was, she did not deserve such a cruel fate. No one deserves that.

Willing herself to walk to the entrance of the stable, still unsure of how the hell she was going to explain what she was doing there, Emma tangled her hand in her golden tresses, scratching her scalp as she tried to find the words to make this situation better.

Who the hell was she kidding? No words would ever make this situation better. But she had to do something. The misery pouring off the the brunette was overwhelming. What kind of person would she be if she just walked away?

And so Emma took a few tentative steps into the stable, smelling death and tears amidst the hay and heartbreak. Her presence was unnoticed by the despairing brunette, as her head was buried in the shoulder of her deceased lover.

She lowered herself to the ground in front of the pair, and placed her cold, trembling hand overtop the tear stained hand of the brunettes.

Startled, the young woman's head snapped up; misery swarming in her squalid orbs of sorrel.

"She's wrong you know," Emma offered. When it became clear that the brunette had no idea what she meant, Emma sighed and gripped her hand. "Love never fades, never leaves you empty. Hatred does that, not love."

Emma tried to smile, but one glimpse into those tortured eyes had tears streaming from her own beryl orbs.

She wanted to say more, but when she drew in a breath, a sharp pain resonated in her ribs. Her hand gripped her side at the unseen source of pain. Again, and again, the pain came in sharp pricks; like being a blind nurse attempted to stab the smallest of possible veins.

The sobbing brunette before her fading from existence.

"Comfortable?" A low and familiar drawling voice questioned.

Emma blinked a few times, her mind futilely attempting to remember where she was and more importantly what the hell she had just seen. Her body ached, that much she knew. And once her eyes focused, Emma understood exactly why that was. She was lying, curled on her side on the hardwood floor, staring at the sharp-heeled perpetrator of pain.

"I...huh...what?" She stammered, placing her hands palms down on the floor and hoisting herself into a salvageable sitting position, head bent, eyes focused on sharp heels. "Those hurt you know," Emma complained, nodding her head at Regina's heels.

She then twisted her head around, working out a cramp in her neck - or at least that's what she hoped it looked like. In reality, she was attempting to gather her bearings as her mind replayed the images of a young mans heart savagely ripped from his chest and a young woman howling in heartbroken pain.

"Wipe the drool from your chin, dear, you look like a slobbering mut," Regina spat.

Emma didn't have to look at the woman to know her lips was most definitely curled in distaste. Nevertheless, she - embarrassingly enough - wiped her chin unceremoniously with the back of a fisted hand before pulling herself into a more appropriate sitting position, still refusing to meet the Mayor's scrutinizing gaze, knowing that her cheeks were already flushed with red.

"Well…" Emma shrugged, "I've definitely slept in less comfortable places," she admitted with a nervous laugh.

"No doubt in the backseat of that metal deathtrap you call a car," Regina jeered.

"Actually, Madame Mayor, the backseat of my dub is much more comfortable than a barrel," Emma quipped, finally bringing her eyes to meet the Regina's.

Damn. She couldn't have felt more inferior sitting on the floor at Regina's feet if she tried. Seriously. It was degrading and made Emma want to rise to her feet just so she could get that extra inch of height to force the Mayor to look up to her. Such as it was, Emma just didn't have it in her to issue a silent challenge of will at the moment.

"A barrel?"

"Long story."

"I'm sure it is."

"I was drunk -"

"I didn't ask."

"You implied."

"The only implication I made was a testament to your doltish behaviors."

"My what?"

"My point exactly."

"Regina?" Emma questioned, forgoing their current banter.

"Yes, Miss Swan?"

"Who is Daniel?"

And in that moment, Emma wanted to kick herself in the ass for even bringing up that name. Had it not been for her current sitting position, she would have. Because she had never seen such a look of hatred, hurt, and hostility encompass a single person, ever before in her life. She swallowed hard and for the first time since she's known the ruthless mayor, she felt fear.

Whether that fear stemmed from the look that had taken over the Mayor's typically resolute features that had now dissolved to unbridled rage, or whether it was because somewhere deep inside of her, she worried that perhaps the incident she witnessed in her dream was real. Well, metaphorically of course. After all, people couldn't have their hearts ripped out and crushed to dust. Not unless they existed within Henry's leather bound story book.

But still. The thought remained; could Regina Mills have experienced such a traumatic heartbreak that it would have caused her to lock herself up like Fort Knox? Emma worried her bottom lip as she waited for a response from the brunette. It was then she realized - well, not quite realized but perhaps acknowledged - that for the length of time she's known the Mayor, she ha absolutely no idea about her past.

About her parents. About her home. About her childhood. About anything. It's like Regina Mills was one epic novel written many, many years ago and only the most recent chapters had been transcribed into a discernible language. The rest was just blurred lines and hieroglyphics of a lost life.

The thought alone saddened her. Because as much as she loathed the Mayor for all the things she had done to make her life miserable, Emma found herself curious, delighted almost at the prospect of learning about the woman's past. And yet agitated beyond belief knowing that the equivocating woman would prefer prevarication to elucidation.

For the first time, Regina broke eye contact with Emma. She turned her head, absentmindedly spinning the ring on her finger as she closed her eyes and tilted her head skywards.

"Who did you hear that name from?" she demanded, refusing to look at the blonde woman sitting so content on the floor.

"I didn't hear it from anyone -"

"Don't you dare lie to me, Miss Swan," Regina advised, spinning back around to glare unforgivingly at the incredulous woman.

Emma practically cowered before the brunette, shrinking further into a ball of limbs and hair, as the Mayor stepped closer to her.

"I'm not lying, Regina," Emma forced the words from her mouth.

Great. Just great. How the hell was she going to explain that she saw it; literally saw the incident in her dreams. God, for all she knew it was just an insignificant scenario conjured up by her subconscious - which clearly must have a sick sense of masochistic humor because all that was going to come from this conversation was a slew of insults.

Before Regina had the chance to berate her further, Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, finding her voice once again.

"It saw him in a dream," The words were whispered, barely audible.

"So you assume that I know of this...Daniel of your dreams?" Regina accused.

"Well, yeah...I mean, you were there too…."

"I see."

Regina turned away, wrapping her arms around her chest as if she were her own life preserver in a sea of despair. Of course, she knew that Emma was having dreams about her. About her past. She wanted - no, needed Emma to see it all. But never having spoken of it since the curse was enacted, never thinking that she would have the need to do so, Regina was definitely not ready to face the resurgence of emotions she felt at the mention of Daniels name.

But, it had to be done. She knew this much. She just had to remind herself of the end goal. Emma Swan will break the curse. But she will do it on the Queen's behalf. She will do it knowing why the curse was enacted. And when all is said and done, she will have understood the pain and aching loneliness the Queen had been subjected to for so many years. Yes, Emma Swan would break the curse but only for Regina's benefit. And with Emma's innate magical powers, Regina would reign as Queen once more in this land.

One small step at a time.

Trust.

Earn it.