"No," Snow said sharply, shaking her head, arms folded over her chest. Knuckles blanched from clenched fists. "Absolutely not."
"Have you gone mad?" Zelena asked at the same time.
Emma knew not to expect a celebration or party in her favor, but this wasn't exactly on the list of possible reactions either. Getting chastised like a child, like anyone else had anything better to suggest.
Standing next to his wife, David had his hands on his hips, his lips pressed in a worried line. "Emma, I know you want to protect them, but that's just too dangerous."
"It makes sense though!" The blonde tried. "This gives us a second option— no one else has to get hurt."
"No, just you," Snow quipped. Turning to Regina, hoping that if there was any compassion left, she would intervene, she begged, "Regina, please. Tell her she can't do this."
Regina waited for a moment, a brief hesitation. She opened her mouth to speak, but no one would ever hear what she had to say. "I'm not asking your permission," Emma ground out. She locked eyes with her lover, fierce and steadfast in a silent standoff. She dared her parents to continue, to try and stop her. She knew that they knew she'd already made up her mind. Still, Emma turned to Zelena with a menacing glare, fully prepared to fight.
"Mom," Henry finally offered from the couch, his hands folded in his lap. With a measured sigh, he stood up and met both of his mothers' gaze, nearly taller than the both of them. "I think you should do it." Regina's surprise was evident as she furrowed her brow, taken aback by his boldness. His words heavy with conviction, she almost didn't recognize him, the young man he'd so quickly become. "I think— if it'll keep Mom and the baby safe, then you have to."
Emma's features softened as she nodded to him, offering him her hand. "Alright," she prompted. "That's two votes in my favor." Emma peered at Regina, tried to remember that this version was indifferent to her decisions. It didn't matter that Regina had almost shared her own stance— she figured she'd just tell Emma to do whatever she wanted. "Regina," she started, "What about you? What do you say?"
Dinner that night was strained, to say the least. Emma and Regina hardly exchanged any words with one another. Henry didn't have it in him to play mediator. Not anymore. He was tired. His shoulders rolled forward, his head held low. He sat as though he were carrying the weight of the entire realm on his back. He didn't even finish his supper. Halfway through, he asked to be excused, to return to his room. Regina reluctantly granted his request, if only because she could see how defeat he was; she listened to his heels drag across the floor as he made his way to the stairs.
When they were finished, Emma cleared the table. She piled all the dishes on top of one another before carrying them to the sink. She nearly made it before bumping into the counter and dropping all of the plates. One by one, they crashed to the floor and shattered to hundreds of tiny pieces, scattering across the finished wood. The clash echoed throughout the room and Emma's nostrils flared as she took a steadying breath.
"Dammit!" Emma hissed as she knelt down and began picking up shards of glass. Regina started to stand up, but Emma shot out a hand. "Don't move! You could get hurt."
With an annoyed scoff, Regina ignored the woman and walked to the cupboard. A broom and dustpan in hand, she started to help clear the mess. "This is what you get for trying to balance it all alone like a fool."
Grinding her teeth together, Emma stayed crouched below as she replied, "Whatever."
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
Emitting a low growl, Emma rose to her feet and glowered at Regina. "I said, whatever."
"How mature," Regina remarked dryly. "Tell me, Emma, do you encourage Henry to make the same careless decisions? Or do you just do it to show off?" Emma's hands turned to fists at her sides as she tried to brush off Regina's snarky comments. She'd forgotten all about the jagged fragments until she felt a warmth spread through her fingers. Regina's scowl softened at the same moment that Emma looked down at her hand. "Gods, Emma, come here." She set the broom aside and beckoned Emma towards the sink.
"You don't have to do this. It's fine," Emma grumbled when Regina turned the water on.
"Clearly," Regina remarked with a not-so-subtle roll of her eyes.
Emma watched as Regina gingerly reached for her wrist and guided it beneath the gentle stream. She'd missed Regina's touch more than anything, had been wondering, waiting to feel it again. This was it. Finally. Except, it wasn't. It didn't feel the same. Not like she remembered.
When the blood had washed away and Regina placed a towel over the wound, Emma held her hand close to her chest. "Thanks," she muttered, somewhat grudgingly.
Leaning against the counter, several feet across from Emma, Regina folded her arms over her stomach. She eyed the blonde intently, tapping into her minimal but meaningful knowledge of Swan behavior. "You're upset with me," she said. It wasn't a question.
Emma's jaw clenched as she peered down at her shoes. Ratty old Converse. Regina had been pestering her to buy a new pair. "If not for yourself, then for us," Regina had said one morning as they were dressing for the day. "Those things don't exactly fit our family's… image." Emma had laughed it off then. She didn't think their family had an "image." The Savior and the Queen. Their image was whatever they wanted it to be.
As she stared at her sneakers now, Emma couldn't help but offer a sad smile. What she wouldn't give to have her partner nagging her again, instead of constantly looking at her with disappointment. "That's the frustrating part," she finally replied. "I'm not upset with you. I could never be upset with you."
Regina let out a dark laugh. "Well, you could've fooled me— pouting ever since your parents left."
Emma just shook her head. "You know, if the situation were reversed… I would've said the same thing."
"You would've called me an idiot?" Regina wonders, somewhat amused.
"Ok, maybe not," Emma chuckled. "But I would tried to stop you. I wouldn't let you do something so dangerous. Not when… not when there's so much to lose."
Playing along, Regina tilted her head and said, "I see. And, if the situation were reversed, would I— I mean, would the woman you fell in love with… would she 'let you' stop her?"
Emma slowly turned to look at Regina. It never got easier. Seeing the face of the woman she'd give her life for— being met with a strangled familiarity, a sadness she hadn't seen for years. "No," she sighed. "She wouldn't."
Emma laid in bed that night with her hands folded beneath her head. Staring blankly a the ceiling, lost in crickets chirping and barren branches creaking outside of her window. She could hear the faint sounds of Henry snoring in the next room and a half-hearted smile spread across her lips. He still didn't believe her when she teased him about the house shaking at night.
Turning onto her side, facing the doorway, Emma tried to remember what it felt like to sleep in their bed. To feel close to Regina, her warmth beside her, her head on her chest. To feel safe again, to be home rather than simply in their house. She tried to understand, tried to piece it all together. How had everything gone to shit so fast?
As she pulled the blankets over her shoulders, she tried to comfort herself with the memory of their first night together. That's how she'd gotten herself to sleep lately, clinging to the moments that she knew would never truly be gone.
—
"Emma, listen. We're both… overwhelmed. I don't think this means what we think it means. I think… I think we just need to take some time and consider this from all angles."
Regina spoke from her front step, her hands clasped together in front of her. A shiver ran down her spine when Emma licked her lips in contemplation. They'd spent the better part of the evening visiting residents, testing the limits of the broken curse. Memories had been restored, but even more questions arose. In the moments of stillness they had together, just the two of them, a swell of hope began to grow in Regina's chest.
Emma was listening to Regina's words, truly, she was. And she had every intention of respecting her wishes. Even if her legs were shaky. Her fingers tingly. Her heart beating erratically.
"Ok," Emma breathed. "You're right. We should think this over. Just, one thing, though?"
Straightening as if she were trying to maintain her mayoral facade, Regina nodded. "Alright?"
"Can I kiss you?"
Regina nearly toppled backward at the request. No, not the request. But the tenderness it was spoken with. She could feel Emma's breath on her, the way the butterflies in her stomach fluttered as their hands grazed ever so slightly.
"Why?" She couldn't help but ask.
Emma frowned as she realized Regina truly didn't know. "Because I love you. I've loved you since … god I can't even remember. No, wait. It was that day in the mines. As terrifying as it was, that's when I knew. I've loved you since then, and I will several days from now. It doesn't matter how much time we take. I'll love you until… well, until forever."
It was a ridiculous little speech. That's what Regina was telling herself. It was naive and born of an unfiltered hope— the very one that had been growing stronger all evening.
Her lips parted somewhat, Regina closed her mouth and stuck her chin out. She took a step forward, lowering herself until she was eye-level with Emma. "Yes," she finally said. "You may kiss me."
Flushed cheeks and sparkly-eyed, Emma waited. Kept Regina in suspense. Smiled as Regina stood still, eyes closed.
Slowly, Emma leaned forward, her own eyes closed now. Her lips caressed Regina's, and at first, it was soft. But then, it was like waves crashing against the shore. Arms wrapped around each other, pulling each other closer, hearts pounding together in time.
They stumbled into Regina's dark house, the lights all off. Up the stairs and into Regina's room, they never broke apart, not even as they fell onto the perfectly made bed.
Emma fell asleep with Regina in her arms that night. And for the first time since she'd come to Storybrooke, she slept without a single nightmare.
Regina awoke the next morning to Henry frantically knocking on her door. Eyes still half closed, she reached for her alarm clock. It was barely 6:30. When Henry called her name, she threw the covers off and leapt out of bed. She opened the door to Henry's wide-eyes staring back at her.
"Mom's gone."