"He's doing better, right?" Emma asks Regina one night a couple of weeks after Henry's birthday. "We aren't just getting used to this?"
Regina takes a sip of her cider thoughtfully. "He's made it two days straight in his own bed the whole night." The intonation is uncertain as though asking Emma whether that is indeed progress, whether it means that Henry will be ok.
"Yeah, he seems better I think. I mean, he let you go to your office for a half hour today." Emma is desperate for Henry to prove somehow that he can be ok again.
"Mmhmm." Regina agrees with a little smile, because Emma looks so sad at the memory of how anxious Henry had been during that half hour. How he had nearly been in tears. How he had thrown himself into Regina's arms when she had arrived home. "We're doing everything we can."
"I know, but it isn't enough."
And though Regina feels that way too half of the time, she refuses to lose faith in Henry. "We don't know that."
Emma still feels guilty when she doesn't have the hope that Regina has. "I just don't want him to turn out like me." She takes a drink of her cider, finishing off the glass.
"There are worse fates." Regina's smile is teasing, playful.
"I thought that I could always count on you not to buy the hype."
"What hype, dear?"
"All that savior stuff. Everyone thinks I'm this perfect fairytale character, but you always knew the truth."
"What truth is that?"
Emma shrugs and replies lightly, as though she doesn't hate herself for these things: "That I'm a screw up with abandonment issues who can't stay in one place long enough to be any good to anybody."
"You've been here for quite a while now."
"I'm trying." Emma fiddles with the empty glass in her hands, staring down at it for a moment before looking up at Regina.
"I know." Regina refills Emma's glass, and then, sensing Emma's doubts says definitively, "You're still here. Even though Henry is hurting and things are difficult, you stayed. It doesn't make a difference if you're scared or want to run, what matters to Henry is that you're here."
To hear it out loud, to know that Regina knows that Emma has wanted to run, is an incredible relief. Someone knows the dark secret that Emma has been keeping, and it doesn't matter.
"If Henry comes through this like you," Regina begins, and the earnestness in her voice draws Emma's eyes upward to meet Regina's. "Then I think we should be quite thankful."
Emma stares back dumbfounded. Maybe she is getting her life together. Maybe she is doing better for her son, but she cannot imagine anyone being thankful for their child to turn out like her. Her own parents wish she were different, she sees it in their eyes. But Regina means this. That Emma can see clearly.
"To live through what you have and still be good, Emma, well that is rather remarkable." There is an openness in Regina's face as she says it, an openness that reminds Emma of that day in the mines.
Regina seems to understand, as she looks at Emma with kind eyes and a small, warm smile, how much Emma needs to hear that she is good and worthy.
Emma feels her throat tightening with emotion, and she knows that she will be unable to get any words out. She nods and smiles her thanks and hopes that Regina understands that the lack of words isn't from lack of gratitude.
Emma takes a large sip of her cider wondering how much she will need to drink to wrap her mind around the fact that someone sees her, really sees her, and still believes that she is good.
They're standing in the kitchen the next evening – drinks together after Henry is in bed have become a nightly routine – when Emma says it. It comes out awkwardly, of course, because Emma can hardly remember a time in her life when she didn't feel at least a little bit awkward.
"You're good too, you know."
"Excuse me?"
"Last night, you told me that I was still good even after the crappy childhood that I had." Emma pauses, gathers herself. She hasn't been able to stop thinking about what Regina had said all day. "That meant a lot to me, and I wanted to make sure that you know that you are a good person too."
Regina is so surprised that she stares blankly back at Emma.
"I don't know what happened to you Regina."
"Have you checked Henry's book?"
"I figure that if you want me to know then you can tell me. I sure as hell wouldn't want someone to read everything about me from a book. Besides, it seems a little one sided to me."
Regina hums her agreement. And then, because she has no idea what to do with this conversation, asks, "Shall we go watch American Horror Story now?" Regina picks up her wine glass and begins to walk away from Emma.
"Wait," Emma says, grabbing Regina's arm.
Regina turns and their bodies are so close to each other. The air feels charged and Emma almost expects to see flashes of magic between them.
"I just want you to know that I know that you made it through all the crap in your life and became a good person anyway."
Regina stares into Emma's eyes. The sincerity takes her breath away. It takes a minute for Regina to regain her composure enough to talk. "Your mother might beg to differ."
Emma lets go of Regina's arm, but Regina doesn't move away. "When we were in the mine together," Emma begins. They have never really spoken of that day before. "You told me that everyone saw you as the Evil Queen, but I don't. I've only ever known Regina."
Regina is breathing heavily, overcome by being called good. Henry had called her a hero in the mine that day. And now Emma is calling her good.
"The Regina who tried to run you out of town, frame your mother for murder, and kill you?"
"Yeah," Emma replies. But she's smiling and Regina truly doesn't know what to make of this. Emma thinks of the gift that Regina had given her the night before. She thinks of how Regina understood Emma's need to be told that she was good. "And the Regina who was willing to die for Henry and who is the only one that can make him feel better after a nightmare. And who gives me wine and cookies every evening and makes me believe that things can alright."
Regina is overcome by the desire to kiss Emma. Regina had appreciated how attractive Emma was from the first night they had met, and now, here Emma is saying the most unbelievably wonderful things.
Regina takes a step back.
She gathers herself, picks up her wine and a plate of homemade lemon bars. "Thank you Emma." She turns and walks towards the living room. Emma follows.
There's no alcohol in their systems when it happens.
Regina and Emma find themselves on the couch watching American Horror Story again the next night after a good day with Henry. A session with Archie. A trip to Granny's. And a night of the three of them playing video games together. When Emma and Regina had tucked Henry in, he had been smiling.
The mothers celebrate with chocolate chip cookies and ice cream.
Emma lets out a loud shriek at a startling scene in the TV show, and the reaction has both Emma and Regina laughing hysterically. Perhaps it's the relief of a good day, but they laugh so hard that tears are rolling down their cheeks.
"Really Emma," Regina gasps between fits of laughter, "you've fought ogres and dragons and evil queens, and you're frightened of a television show?"
"Oh come on, Regina," Emma says once the laughter subsides. Her stomach aches from laughing so hard. "That scene was pretty scary. Admit it."
"I don't scare easily."
"Yeah, whatever. I saw you closing your eyes before."
Emma glances back at the screen and shrieks once again at the startling image on the screen.
Regina chuckles. "It's alright dear. I'll keep you safe." She does it without thinking. Regina wraps an arm around Emma. The closeness and the laughter and the happiness of the day seems to have made her forget everything about who she is and who Emma is and how touching isn't part of their relationship.
Regina's arm around her is a surprise. Emma looks at Regina, who seems equally surprised to find her arm wrapped around Emma. Their bodies are pressed together, Regina's face so near to Emma's, and Emma feels closer to Regina than she has felt to anyone in so long.
Emma leans in and presses her lips to Regina's. For a second Emma's mind screams that she shouldn't be doing this, that she doesn't know if Regina is interested, that this is insane. But then, Regina is kissing her back. Softly and tenderly. Regina wraps her arm around Emma and holds her - just holds her - and Emma can hardly remember ever feeling so wanted.
They pull away and stare at each other for a few long seconds, taking stock of each other's reaction, making sure that they didn't imagine the desire.
Regina's mouth is pressed back against Emma's a moment later. Regina's hands move on Emma's back, caressing impossibly softly. In all the times that Emma has imagined this happening – and if she's honest with herself she's been imagining what sex with Regina would be like since the early days that they had known each other – she had always imagined passion and power and unbelievable hotness. But Emma had never imagined tenderness. She had never imagined the way Regina's thumb is caressing her neck. Or how her lips feel so soft.
It makes Emma respond in kind – with touches full of care. When Regina moans into Emma's mouth, Emma knows that the desire building inside her is so much more complicated than any of the unemotional encounters that she has allowed herself in the years since she had completely lost faith in childish notions like love.
"Are we going to ruin everything if we do this?" Emma asks.
"I don't know. If anyone could, it would be us."
Emma laughs softly. "Probably. But I still want to."
The inches between herself and Emma feel like too much to Regina. She feels her body burning with the desire to touch Emma. "Me too."
Emma exhales. "Ok." She's pretty sure that she's grinning nervously like a fool.
Regina kisses Emma again - more urgently this time – before pulling back with a smile. Regina takes Emma's hand, their fingers interlocking as they had on the nights that Emma and Regina had sought comfort from each other in chaste touches. Regina stands - pulling Emma to her feet as well - and leads them hand in hand up the stairs and to her bedroom.