Emma had been alternately retreating from and approaching Regina Mills door for close to fifteen minutes. Each time she thought she'd prepared herself to ring the doorbell an unbidden doubt would surface.
What is she's asleep?
What if she's in the middle of something?
What if she doesn't want to see me?
This last worry was the most pressing. She kept picturing the refined sneer that Regina wore so well, accompanied by a voice dripping with contempt. "What do you want now Miss Swan? Haven't you disturbed me enough for one lifetime?"
The only reason she hadn't walked away completely was that Henry knew she was here. He'd practically begged to come along and she'd managed to placate him by pointing out that the only way they could start operating like a remotely functioning family was for his mothers' to be able to communicate. Alone.
He hadn't been happy but he'd gone along with it, after extricating a promise from her that she'd pass along a message. She couldn't go home now with nothing to show for the visit but a sheepish confession that she hadn't even gone inside his old house.
Besides, Emma Swan was not the 'tail between the legs' type. She'd just battled ogres and witches and giants and a lecherous pirate for gods-sakes! How hard could this one conversation be after all that?
Ten minutes later and she still hadn't moved.
Finally, sick of her own faltering, Emma strode forward and pressed a wilful finger to the doorbell, before she found the opportunity to back out again.
She withdrew her hand quickly and took a step back, exhaling as if she'd just finished a particularly arduous race. She could hear the high pitched ringing echoing up the Mayor's massive staircase and she pictured it dispersing, scattering into the corners of each impeccably decorated room.
Emma steeled herself for the verbal tirade that she was sure was about to descend at any moment.
But it never came.
No heels clicked on the tiled surface of the Mifflin Street house. It didn't even sound as if it's occupant had stirred.
Emma pressed the bell again, leaning a bit more insistently to show that she wasn't going away. The door remained steadfastly shut. And the mansion stayed silent.
"Regina?" Emma called out. "Are you home?"
Again there was no reply.
Concern prickled up Emma's spine. In all of the scenarios she'd imagined for this particular encounter – an absent Regina hadn't featured.
Where could the woman be?
It wasn't a Wednesday so the mausoleum was unlikely. Henry was back at the Charming's apartment so she wasn't with him.
Did the dark haired woman have any friends?
The question added a peculiar brand of sorrow and guilt to her mass of swirling emotions. If Regina Mills had struck up any friendships in the twenty eight years she'd been in Storybrooke, then the knowledge that their illustrious Mayor was actually the Evil Queen would have well and truly severed those tenuous bonds with the townsfolk.
Typical, thought Emma, Trust Regina to make breaking an evil curse feel like something I should apologise for.
Without really expecting it to work, Emma tested the doorknob. It turned easily and the door swung open.
Okay, take concern and officially update it to worry.
Regina Mills was an intensely private and secure person in a town full of enemies who had recently gone old school lynch mob on her. Emma couldn't see her just forgetting to lock her front door.
Abandoning all the lingering, optimistic thoughts that were suggesting that Regina simply hadn't heard her, Emma stepped quickly into the house and called out again. Louder this time.
"Regina? Are you here?"
The faintest groan travelled down the marble staircase and into Emma's alerted ears. At any other time Ruby would have been the only Storybrooke citizen capable of detecting the pale sound but Emma's senses were on high alert.
The second the noise registered she picked up the pace, jumping the stairs two at a time. She headed for the room the moan had originated from – Henry's.
Poised at the threshold, Emma pressed her ear against the door and heard another soft cry. This time she was close enough to recognise that the utterance was laced with pain. With one last steadying breath, she pushed the door open.
Curled up on Henry's bed, facing away from her, Regina's form was a shocking sight. Her back was rigid, her extremities shaking.
"Regina?" Emma's voice was so much smaller than she ever thought it could be.
"Ah...Miss Swan." Regina's words sounded like they had crawled out of a cracked and bleeding throat. "Just when I thought this couldn't get any more painful."
"Just when you thought what couldn't get any more painful?" Emma asked with trepidation.
She could practically hear the eye roll in Regina's response.
"My death of course."
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