There's the low buzz of murmurs around them, people quietly tending to each other's injuries and backing out the door as soon as they can, eyes darting back to Regina every few moments. Snow has joined them, her face worn and weary as she bandages up one of the other dwarves, but Emma doesn't dare make eye contact with any of them. Not while Grumpy is still crumpled on the floor a few feet away. Not while Regina is crouched over her, a glowing hand hovering over the scrapes on Henry's cheek.
She doesn't look at Emma, and Emma tightens her grip on Henry, her lips pressed to the top of his head and her eyes on Regina's hand. She doesn't trust herself to speak yet, not until Henry flinches away from Regina and whimpers, "It hurts."
"It doesn't look like it's getting better," she says finally, wrapping a hand against Regina's wrist to guide her away from Henry. It's a little too tight, a little less gentle than it probably should be, and she hates herself for recoiling when Regina shifts, for the instinctive fear that floods her heart at the movement of the queen.
Regina's eyes flicker to Emma's, dark and fathomless, and Emma stares back with as still a face as she can muster. "My magic's too unstable for healing right now," she mutters, retracting her hand, but she doesn't pull away, doesn't tear her eyes from Emma's.
And if it weren't Henry who's there between them, shaking with pain and trauma, Emma doesn't know where this would go, what she or Regina might have done to the other. This wouldn't end like it had with the Huntsman. This isn't the temporary, magical evil that a supposed savior can end. This is the evil Emma knows, the one she's seen from the worst of the bail jumpers she'd once hunted down. Murderers who'd kill without a second thought, who would shoot an innocent in their way when Emma's gotten too close to them and who wouldn't think twice about it later.
That's who Regina is, and she'd known it in the back of her head all along but never allowed herself to acknowledge it, gladly losing herself in the smokescreen that is the world around them and the son they share. No one takes Bond villains seriously, amidst the mustache-twirling and grand world-ending plans. No one looks at baddies in fantasy as anything more than plot points to be easily defeated in the end. But Regina had been intricately complex, so much more than the evil she'd seemed capable of, and Emma had been wary but let her guard down all the same, surrendering with ease to the forces of good she'd sought out in Regina- first for Henry's sake, then for her own.
And Emma knows that there's a shameful part of her that still isn't rational, that's still reacting to this new, awful development out of hurt feelings and wounded dreams, focusing on Regina let me down instead of Regina killed a man. It's why she can't break their locked gazes, why she can barely be this close to Regina without lashing out in an ill-advised attack. Why every moment that her fingers are touching Regina, she craves to punish her more, to deliver another blow that would shatter the other woman.
And just as ardent is her desire to be punished right back, to have Regina turn on her and strike out at her just as she had Grumpy, to react with violence and scathing hatred because Emma deserves it, Emma deserves it for her own stupid delusions and false hope. Sheer arrogance, that's what it's been, to believe that someone could change so fully so soon and to keep pushing and pushing for progress until something had given way within Regina and the burden of redemption been too much.
Emma isn't responsible for murder, and she has the presence of mind to acknowledge that. But she's fallen prey to her own inflated expectations when it comes to Regina, she knows. She'd been rightfully afraid for so long but had given unconditional trust to the other woman at last, and she hates Regina for it nearly as much as she hates herself.
But superseding her pain and pride and heartache is Henry, still trembling in her arms- Henry, who needs them both right now and not the screwed up messes they've become- and she finally has the presence of mind to venture, "Can you show me how to heal him?"
She can see the indecision in the queen's eyes, can see something very much like betrayed pain flit across Regina's gaze- and it's impossible, after the time they've spent together, not to know Regina's own agony right now, not to feel gutted as Emma recognizes and experiences what she's inflicted on the other woman as acutely as she experiences her own betrayal; and it's even more difficult to compartmentalize it away in return- but Regina finally inclines her head toward Henry in a reluctant nod.
When she instructs Emma, it's curt and impatient, and Emma understands exactly what she'd meant before that her magic had been too unstable. She can't focus herself, can't channel any of the magic that's been springing forward so often lately unbidden. Magic is about emotion, and Emma's afraid of her emotions right now, afraid of letting them free in any capacity, especially when she's this close to Henry.
Still, though, the bruises are lightening and Henry's breathing a little more easily when she finally gives up, her magic fading away in her hands. "Light magic," Regina mumbles. "Easier to heal than to destroy. Hero magic," she sneers, and Emma stiffens at the contempt in her voice. "For our heroic rebel, on a noble mission to overthrow the evil tyrant."
Maybe it'd be justified to point out that she's barely been involved with the resistance since she'd seen Regina begin to change. Maybe it'd be fair to both of them to let Regina know exactly how much the resistance has repulsed her, and how she hadn't even suspected this attack. But hate…hate is good right now, is more potent than any excuses or retorts. Let Regina hate her. It makes it all the easier to hate her right back.
So instead she grits out, "I need to set Henry's arm," and touches the arm they'd both avoided until now and receives a gasp of pain from Henry in response.
"Wait." Regina's voice is like ice but her face reveals only concern for her son. "Let me numb it first." This magic gives her no trouble, and when she's done there's an odd sheen to Henry's arm. Emma jams it back into place and they both wince at the sound it makes before they reach for it at once, supporting Henry as he mumbles a protest Emma can't make out.
"Regina." It's Snow's voice, dark and somber, and when she kneels down next to them, Emma moves between her and the queen instinctively. Regina won't take Snow away too, not without a fight, no matter how deeply her resentment runs and how unstable she is right now.
But Snow is holding a stick and wrapping Henry's arm with strips from her dress, working on automatic and barely noticing either of them. She glances at Regina once and Emma tenses for another confrontation, but Regina only barks out, "Get on with it," and takes Henry's other arm as Emma exhales in quiet relief.
Regina looks at her, scathing disdain on her face that can't disguise the hurt underneath. "Do you think me so unable to control myself?"
"I don't know what I think of you anymore," Emma says honestly, and Regina laughs, rich and bitter and mocking all at once.
"I suppose we have that in common now." And Emma doesn't know which one of them Regina is talking about, but she identifies with the sentiment either way.
"Mom," Henry interrupts, his eyes pleading. He's been so quiet until now that she starts at the sound, gripping his healthy arm. "Can you help me up? Please?"
She hauls him to his feet, careful of his arm, and when she stumbles on the shattered remnants of a table, automatic hands steady her from behind. "Watch your step," Regina murmurs, so close when Emma turns that she could tilt her head and it would touch the queen's forehead, and for a moment it's almost as though Regina hasn't fallen off the wagon big time, as though Emma hasn't admitted a betrayal nearly as awful, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lean forward and brush her lips against Regina's.
Reality sets in with that final thought, and Emma pulls back so quickly that Regina's fingers slide off her in an instant. "You're holding on to Henry," Regina clarifies, curling her lip in contempt. Her eyes are raw and hesitant behind her expression, and Emma takes another step back as they close off again.
"Can't you just use your magic to take us home?" Henry asks, his voice small. He still clings to Emma's hand, lagging behind her as they walk. She knows what he's doing, knows that he sees himself as the final shield between his two mothers and knows that Regina would never attack anyone as long as Henry stands between her and them, and she'd urge him away if she didn't believe the same thing. "Dr. Frankenstein can make my arm better, right?"
Regina shakes her head. "Not yet. We must make the one stop first."
Emma stiffens, the words escaping out of sheer disbelief. "You're bringing our son down to Rumpelstiltskin?"
"My son, Miss Swan," Regina bites out. "And I won't have him without me until we're back in the castle."
"You've got to be kidding." Emma's fully turned to face Regina now, a protective arm around Henry as she glares unafraid at the flashing eyes daring her to keep arguing, to question a queen who could and might kill her in an instant. "We'll take him back first then. Do you really think anyone's sitting around and waiting for you at the resistance right now anyway?"
"He will be there." Regina snarls. "And that's all I can trust right now." Certainly not you, Miss Swan remains unspoken, but Emma hears it all the same. Regina turns away, stepping over the table fragments to the hole ripped through the wall to outside. "You're welcome to show me the way and then leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," Emma snaps back without thinking. "If you're going to face Rumpelstiltskin, you're not doing it alone." She freezes, deer-in-headlights, as there's a sharp intake of breath from Regina. "I mean. While Henry's with you."
"Of course," Regina says with a strangled voice. "Henry is our priority."
Henry, Henry, Henry. This has to be about Henry, has to be about confronting Rumpelstiltskin with her own righteous anger- and he'd hurt their son and might have killed him and Regina if they hadn't moved away from the explosion in time, and she feels a frisson of uncontrollable rage at the thought of it. This can't be about protecting Regina or fighting beside her or that awful pit in her stomach that gnaws at her when she imagines the queen fighting the only person in this kingdom more powerful than she is.
Regina doesn't get her loyalty anymore. Regina can't get her loyalty anymore.
Emma grits her teeth and stalks forward, Snow trailing behind her and Henry still at her side, and they walk into the cool twilight stillness together. She doesn't watch Regina's back, doesn't watch her as she strides across the lawn, a lonely figure silhouetted against the darkening blue of the sunset.
No one is outside, no sign remaining of the explosion but debris strewn across the grounds of the tavern and a hollowed out metal husk of something that Emma doesn't stop to try and identify. She can see fairy lights in the distance, hovering as though they're waiting and flitting forward only once Regina steps out ahead of Emma and shifts away from the disaster site.
"How's your arm?" Emma asks Henry in a low voice, kicking aside a chunk of wall as they round the side of the tavern back to the path.
He shakes his head. "It's fine. I don't feel anything."
But he's still crying, tears spilling from his eyes and dripping down to a cut slashed across his cheek, and Emma recognizes his distress for what it is- for its familiarity. She stops and bends down in front of him, taking his good hand in hers. "Henry, none of this was your fault."
He blinks away tears but more emerge. "Grumpy's dead because of me. Because I-"
"Because of her," Emma cuts in swiftly, and she dares to glance at the queen, who watches them both expressionlessly, standing very still a few feet away from them. "You can't be responsible for what she does, kid. Not even when she thinks she's doing it for you." She squeezes his hand. "It's a hell of a lot to put on your shoulders, Henry." It's meant both to rebuke and to goad but Regina doesn't take the bait, doesn't do anything but wait silently at the edge of the path, observing them without reaction.
When she does speak, it's only to demand in a tone just barely subdued (and Emma might even be imagining the thread of uncertainty winding through it, and she mentally censures herself for seeking it out), "The resistance, Miss Swan."
"Yeah." Henry is snug at her side and when Snow reaches for her hand, she takes it, and the three of them enter the mines together.
Regina follows, her footsteps on stone echoing behind them.
The open room where the resistance meets is deserted, dotted with empty chairs and flickering lamps and a single table left bare in the center of the room. "There's no one here," Snow says unnecessarily. "Maybe they've moved somewhere else?"
Emma shrugs. "I haven't been back here in a while," she says, and maybe it's a tiny bit for the benefit of the queen now circling the room, one hand glowing with her own personal flame as she surveys the rocky pathways out into the rest of the mines.
"He'll be here," the queen utters with certainty, and then he is, just like that, popping into existence in front of Emma and Snow with a delighted trill.
"The whole family's here! What a delight," he titters, and Snow's hand tightens in Emma's. "Oh, yes, and Her Majesty too." He beckons to Regina with a wiggle of his fingers and gets a fireball hurled at him for his efforts. It splits in half and burns a path in the air around them all, joining together on the other side of their group and crashing ineffectually into a stone wall. "Better watch your aim, Majesty. We wouldn't want to hurt your dear beloved, would we?"
"Emma, step back!" Regina orders, impatient, and Emma responds automatically, angling backward to avoid the next attack.
The returning fireball is transformed into an assortment of white feathers that flutter to the ground in front of them, and Emma winces at the heat she can feel nearly searing them. "Take Henry and get back against that wall," she murmurs to Snow, gesturing toward the wall beside the underground path back to the castle. If they need to run, they'll at least be running to safety.
For a moment, the idea of taking Henry and Snow and fleeing back home crosses her mind again, to leave Regina behind for her vendetta-
-But no, it's their vendetta, and she touches on the fury she's barely allowed herself to acknowledge until now, the rage with the man who'd promised Henry would be unharmed in their next attack. One dead queen, and the little one free to be yours, he'd said, and even with the revulsion- it has to be revulsion, it can't be the agony of an evil she should have expected long ago- she feels toward Regina right now, that's still enough to raise her ire.
And this time, when Regina stalks forward and hurls another wave of magic at the damned little troll, Emma's own magic escapes in a wave of fury. They both slam into the man at the same time and Rumpelstiltskin chortles as his crocodilian skin crackles with light and dark energy and peels off, leaving him in pristine condition as it puffs away. "You, too, dearie?" He offers a toothy smile to Emma, eyes glittering with malice. "And here I thought we had an understanding."
Emma remembers, far too late, that she's had a sword lashed to her waist all along. She draws it in a smooth motion, extending it until the tip is millimeters from Rumpelstiltskin's throat, tracing the lines from his neck to his heart. "You hurt Henry."
He shrugs, letting out a mad little giggle. "And you were absent a little too often for our agreement to be fulfilled." He enunciates each word, drawing them out for maximum effect.
There's a sharp breath from across the room, and Regina asks carefully- and now Emma isn't imagining the desperate need on her face, the hope she can't quite conceal from their eyes- "You worked with them for Henry's sake?"
"Well, we also promised her your head," Rumpelstiltskin adds before Emma can respond. His lips stretch across his face in a mocking smile. "Haven't done that yet, either."
Emma finds her voice. "I never wanted that." But Regina's gaze is shuttered again, her eyes cold as her magic flares up again to part the ground below the imp.
"Oh, dearie, you were born for it," Rumpelstiltskin drawls, vanishing and reappearing a few feet away, and he's about to say something more when there's a shout from the other end of the room and they all turn to see Henry struggling against Snow's grasp. "No!" he's shouting, eyes wild as he breaks free and hurtles toward the man. "No! YOU'LL RUIN EVERYTHING!" He stumbles on a rock protruding from the ground and topples to the floor, and Emma and Regina both run to him at once, heedless of the man watching them with laughing eyes.
They're both bent on the ground over Henry, pulling him up together and protective hands running over him as he whimpers, "No. No, I want to go home. I want to go now."
"Soon," Regina murmurs, stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "I promise you, this will all be over soon."
In another instant, she's gone and Emma and Henry both reel at her absence before she reappears, fingers clenched around Rumpelstiltskin's neck as she holds him immobile against the wall. "If I could kill you, I would, you twisted little imp."
He manages a smirk even in her grasp. "Oh, Majesty, I'm not the one you should fear." And his eyes flicker back to Emma, and now Henry is sagging against her, tearful again for a reason she doesn't understand.
She doesn't understand anything right now, not Rumpelstiltskin or Henry or even Snow, who's crying too now with an wordless sorrow that escapes Emma, and she finally asks, her voice small and without force, "What the hell are you talking about?"
Regina tightens her grip on him until he gasps, but his face is still greedy and eager. "Brash, mindless Emma, so naïve." His gaze alights onto the queen holding him. "And Regina." He laughs aloud as their eyes narrow. "I warned you twenty-eight years ago of the one who could break your curse, and you did absolutely– not a thing!" he trills.
"The savior," Emma whispers, but it had all been a false hope, right? The final dream of a woman prone to idealism, when all the others had given up on this mythical savior and Emma herself had disregarded the whole idea. Emma, who'd been found on the side of a freeway twenty-eight years ago and had never known her family. It's impossible.
"On her twenty-eighth birthday, the child will return," Rumpelstiltskin intones, his eyes closed as he sways from side to side. "The child will find you." He tilts his head to raise an eyebrow at a very pale Snow White. Snow White, the savior's mother, who'd been speaking obliquely of her lost daughter and her faith in her for as long as Emma had known her. No. No. No. "And the final battle will begin!"
Regina drops Rumpelstiltskin as he finishes with a triumphant shriek of merriment, the queen's hands clenched into fists at her side as she stands back. "The savior," she echoes Emma's earlier words. "Emma…is…"
"You may be a little hardheaded," the imp says, knocking a fist against the side of Regina's head. She doesn't react. "But you can't possibly be this obtuse, not with Cora's blood in you." He turns, sweeping his hands in Emma's direction. "You must have suspected."
And when Regina's eyes meet Emma's, she can see the dark despair in them, the hint of resignation that yes, she had suspected the one thing that Emma had never even contemplated. "No," Regina mutters when Emma looks away. "At first, I'd thought that you could be…but you were Henry's mother. I didn't…"
"You didn't want to believe it," Rumpelstiltskin inserts, pressing closer to her. "You were so enamored with the savior that you didn't dare believe that she would be your doom." He cackles. "And thus you sealed your fate to the savior who would destroy you." He traces the curve of her cheekbone down along her jaw to her lips in a mockery of affection. Regina doesn't move, her eyes still burning into Emma's. "How perfectly tragic."
They're all frozen, all caught in the impossibility of this day as Rumpelstiltskin moves freely between them, turning his attention to Snow. "And you and the boy have known all along, haven't you, dearie?" Snow takes a step back, turning pleading eyes to Emma, and Emma looks away.
She can't- she needs time to process this. She needs space, and she can feel the cave walls pressing in on her, forcing Snow and Regina and Henry and Rumpelstiltskin and her all into a tighter and tighter area until she can't breathe, can't move, can't think at all because Snow is my mother? I'm supposed to be the savior?
Is that all I've been doing here until now?
No. No, she can't subscribe to this fictional destiny and the patently unfair idea that she is somehow responsible for this kingdom, for the people and the magic and Regina, Regina who hasn't been saved at all and if that's her responsibility then she rejects it soundly, runs from this crap and leaves this whole damn town to fend for itself.
My life was never my own, Regina had said once, and Emma's never identified so readily with that until this moment. She's left with the sensation of standing still for years only to discover that she's been on a speeding train all along, and only now can she see that it's racing into destruction. She wants to close her eyes and open them again and find herself back in her apartment in Boston, with no knowledge of Storybrooke or magic or curses or Regina, or Henry-
It's Henry who keeps them moving, Henry who's suddenly stumbling away from Emma to his mother- Henry who's known all along, too, and brought her here to fulfill this fucked up destiny that's been suddenly thrust upon her. She can't think to resent him for it yet, and she holds on to his movement with her eyes like it's a lifeline. "Emma would never destroy Mother," he says fiercely, ducking under the queen's arm to insinuate himself into her embrace. "Emma's going to save her. And you can't stop her."
Emma thinks of Grumpy, how easily his neck had broken as Regina had snapped her fingers, and her face tightens as Rumpelstiltskin drawls, "Oh, I'm counting on it."
He's gone as quickly as he'd come, and Henry says again, weary and bruised beneath Regina's protective arm, "Now can we go home?"