Author's Note: thank you to the two GLaDOS2.0 and hjbau for letting me know that I had managed to upload the wrong chapter. *sight* slight senior episode.

Anyway... on with the show...

Much love

Jane

Chapter 7

The three days of the campaign were an oxymoron of speed and stillness. Everything was happening too fast, the smear campaigns, the scandalous gossip, the pure, unadulterated pettiness of the parties. And not at all fast enough to get it over with. Emma would have loved to be able to say that her mother had behaved exemplary. She had not. She had participated in the gossip, imparted information that had been secret until that time- and all about things that had happened, all things considered, 30 years ago, though with the memory bracket of a different life, it seemed they had happed only yesterday. It seemed the fairy tale characters had long memories and short tempers.

It served as small consolation that Snow had not participated in the violence and had publically appealed to her supporters to abstain from the skirmishes and general malevolence. Snow, it seemed, had little trust good prevailed on its own value if it wasn't willing to fight (and fight a little dirty) in the same battles and use the same weapons as evil. Though, come to think of it, according to Henry's book, neither King Thomas and King George were above reproach. Big, fat ah to that. It seemed there was not much difference between the good ones and Regina except the results and the names they gave to their tactics.

Emma deputised Ruby and, funnily enough, Leroy. Being of stocky build and having an allegiance mostly to Snow- without fear of simply ignoring her- or anyone else by that matter- if it did not suit him- he was woefully the not so bad candidate in a line up of ex palace guards and professional executioners she knew nothing about. The underbelly of fairytale land was rolling to the top and, it seemed, that underbelly was a good fat portion of the population.

Her days were spent between running around stopping fights and impending attacks on political adversaries and escaping to see Regina. It was a need as much physical- to assure herself of her safety- and something deeper, inside her bones, perhaps- the need for an equilibrium, a silence of all the anger and resentment inside her that only happened when they were together. Even if separated by bars.

The fear, the anguish about the trial to come- those she saved for herself.

Regina knew Emma was scared because she had become cordial in their exchanges. That had never happened before. OK, so this was not the same as before, but it still felt forced. As if she was minding each word, balancing them in a curious act of care. She deliberately downplayed the chaos Storybrooke had descended into, what must have been promised to the masses in return for their vote. Democracy was not something Storybrooke was accustomed to and Regina did not expect any responsibility or serenity in the promises for after the election. There was only one thing likely to matter to Storybrooke and that was what became of her. No one would want to promise a return- simply because no one knew why it had not yet happened. She did not know either. Why weren't they back? Not that she wanted to go. There was nothing for her in that world. She had not missed any of it. Not even her magic. What she had gained here, the control over herself was well worth the sacrifice. But with a promise to return out of the equation, what else was there to promise but her demise? And, she would bet, the bloodiest promise would get the more votes. The only question was, therefore, if the blood thirst would be satisfied with the simple beheading or if it would demand more flourishes, more detail. More suffering.

People with a heart usually wanted to satisfy it in the most painful ways. She had.

Ruby had told her on the second day she was afraid of the full moon. It was an hesitant confession, born out of loneliness that people fated for happy endings could not understand. She was afraid that with the curse broken, she would be left lose in Storybrooke in her other self. She was afraid of hurting others, of being killed for what she was. Regina had had an almost unstoppable urge to take her hand and tell the girl she understood. She fought that urge tooth and nail. What good would it do? But she did. She understood the fear. She understood the compulsion in her bones to be the worst part of herself. She expended most of her energy just to be normal. Just to be this tame version of herself now that the truth was out, now that Henry had been vindicated and had left her for good.

Ruby's confession exposed Regina's own fear, one she had to live with. Where she had before transformed that fear into action, tearing paths through the ruin of other people's lives until she could say that she feared nothing and no one, she now had to sit still, locked in a cage, her heart too weak to let her pace that fear away. All those years she had lived, her heart knew them, felt them, showed them in the way it beat with effort, an arthritic, wrinkly old heart. And still she wouldn't give it up for the world.

She admitted it to herself. She was afraid to be that thing again, to be the beast that roamed the land ruining lives. She was afraid no one would stop her. There was a venom inside her and she was tired of it. That night in Emma's arms had been a wonder of freedom from that venom. She had been the best possible version of herself and it had felt light and unencumbered as nothing had ever felt.

Storybrooke without happy endings was far better than the Enchanted Forest with all its magic and fairy godmothers. For those like her, the absence of an ending was as good as it got. She kept her observation to herself because Ruby did not want or need her sympathy. No one did. Because what are you if evil sympathises with you?

Emma placed the brown take out bags from Granny's close to the bars where Regina could reach them. They were grease stained and slightly disgusting looking. Certainly nothing like she imagined Regina's meals had been like in that white mansion. Or like the meals she'd had as a queen. She took some time to imagine things Regina had done as a queen. The small things, like how she walked and how she dressed and how she spoke, how she ate and slept. She imagined the small things, the ones that required no interaction with other people, because she needed to build up her courage for that. Because the truth would come out eventually and she wanted to be ready.

Emma feared knowing the things she did not know about Regina as much as she fearing not knowing them. And almost as much as she feared the outcome of the trial every single one of the candidates to the throne had promised.

"What do you miss the most about home?" Emma sat on the floor, leaning against the bars, her hands holding on to the rough iron, no hint of the heat Regina felt.

Regina hesitated in her answer. There was nothing she missed about the Enchanted Forest. Absolutely nothing. Only a someone. Did she really want it revealed? She placed her hands over Emma's. Her heart beat stronger, quickly losing rhythm as if it could not keep up with the emotion. She felt her breath shorten. "Daniel" She needed someone to know the truth. If no one did, when she died, Daniel would truly be dead, no one to know his name. If a tree falls in the forest and no one sees it, was it ever there? That was the true end, wasn't it? "I miss Daniel." She could see the hurt in Emma's whole body, how it took over every muscle, every sinew, every bone. She could feel how Emma's hands went cold and how her breath hitched silently in her chest. Emma and her, they had this in common: none of them gave away easily that something was breaking inside. But desperate souls recognise each other. "Mother killed Daniel. She took his heart."

It was petty jealousy, Emma admitted to herself with shame. She was jealous of a dead man. Jealous of Regina. This was not Emma Swan. "Did you love him?" Duh, her inner moron pointed out.

"I did." Her distracted fingers caressed Emma's. "I do, still."

"He's dead." Emma wanted to punch herself, because she did not do jealousy, she did not do needy.

"He is. But that's no reason to stop."

"God, I was kinda hopping you'd say apples. Or pheasant."

"Pheasant is overrated." Regina let herself sooth the hurt she'd caused. "But I have come to understand that… that feeling…" And she could not bring herself to utter the words love afraid she would dirty the word in some way. "It's not all there is… here." She touched her chest over her erratic beating heart and then returned to cup Emma's hand in hers because she was not ready to let go. And that was all she could say about that. "Now, Ms Swan, are there any provisions in this electoral campaign to feed the prisoner? Or have they decided to starve me?"

It felt good to be able to say things like that out loud. For the last two days they had avoided the subject. Any subject, really. Almost every subject was taboo. Henry, who now hated them both. The election. The trial. It was easier to stay silent because there were far too many landmines they could step on if they tried to navigate a conversation.

This felt much better. This felt like confronting a fear and that was, at least, doing something.

"You've got some nerve, Madam Mayor. The Sheriff herself comes to feed you and this is the thanks I get for my troubles."

"I had no idea Storybrooke had any police officer beyond the Sheriff."

"It does now. Two deputies, one Sheriff. There are lots and lots of us. When this all goes tits up, I'm sure we'll restrain the crowd with one hand behind our backs." It felt really good to joke about things. Any more seriousness and Emma might just burst something. Probably a coronary artery. Or her last nerve.

The third day of campaign came and went. And then there was the election on the fourth day. The whole of Storybrooke flocked to the polling stations bright and early and before lunchtime, every single voter had voted. It was a resounding success.

The ballots were counted by the fairies. Emma did not like it one bit when they were chosen for that. She would have rather had Archie or even herself do that. But she had to settle for representatives of three candidates to be present at the counting.

"Don't tell anyone," Ashley (there was no way she could call that girl Cinderella) whispered in her ear when they were waiting outside the convent. "But I voted for Snow"

It seemed the sentiment was shared by more than Ashley. Katherine, though, was the most surprising of the lot. Emma would have expected that she would vote for anyone else but Mary Margaret. "I always liked a ballsy woman. And quite frankly, King George is a little bit of a shit. I find language in this land quite liberating, you know?"

There was not much she knew about elections. In Storybrooke, after all, there had been but one true election, when that inconvenient Emma Swan had been elected Sheriff. Anything else was sort of like a foreign experience, with Storybrookeans flowing orderly and anaesthetically to the voting stations, no real investment, no real enthusiasm. But this? Oh, this carried such entertainment value in itself she wanted to clap her hands in glee. Still, she behaved demurely, always the wallflower. She had to remember to congratulate herself later, privately, on the performance.

By night time, Snow was Queen. There was no crown and no coronation ceremony. But Snow was queen and Thomas Sr. and George merely two very self important Storybrooke citizens. And then it was the time when push came to shove. Snow was accosted immediately by the two would-be kings and there were demands that Regina be tried swiftly and punishment meted out without delay.

Snow bared her teeth, exercising her power as a muscle, checking how far it went. Good thing old habits die hard. Surrounded by her court, Snow determined that there should be a case built, an accusation team assembled and a defence team organised. Maybe a venue organised. As expected, George took over the accusation, which, all things considered, was more than a little ironic, what with him having been the DA in her case and now whatever the Enchanted Forest's equivalent would be to that for Regina.

If it wasn't for the fact that Snow disliked him intensely, she would have obtained some satisfaction from that fact.

It was, however, far more difficult to find a defence team for Regina. When she looked around her, no one volunteered. Leroy, quick and to the point, summed up everyone's feelings: "That will be the day, sister!"

Emma did not expect any different. Regina was the bottom line of the election and the end result of her trial was pretty much a certainty. It did not mean they could not try. And it did not mean it wasn't a crushing blow. She hugged Snow tight. The hug she had been missing all her life. This was a bad timing to become an emotional mess, but that hug felt so right, so proper. So full of strength and love.

She picked herself up, carefully, breathed deeply, shoring herself up and puffed out her chest in defiance. "Ok. I've got that."

"Yes, you do." James said as he placed dinner on the table. He was a simple man and his needs simple. He wanted nothing but claim his child, to hug her to him, to hug away the years and offer his pledge for the future. But he had come to know Emma a little for these past few months and he was uncertain of her reaction. No, she would not push him away, but she did not quite strike him as the touchy feely kind of person. Which was unfortunate because he knew no better way to speak his love than that. All the rest was incidental. On an afterthought, he prepared a box with a separate portion of the dinner he had cooked and set aside to keep warm. "And when we're finished here, you can go to that mine and take this with you."

The hug came unexpected to Emma, reaction more than action. David or James or Prince Charming was her dad and that was at once embarrassing and humbling and plain unbelievable. But he was there setting food on the table that he had cooked himself (at the expense of a couple of lost battles with the knife and a suspicious burning smell) and he had made space in his evening and, apparently, in his life for how she felt about him and Snow and Regina and… stuff. Despite the fact that she was still struggling with it. It was the acceptance of the gesture that was her undoing and that propelled her from her chair and moved her arms around him.

"Thank you!"

Everything was warm and looked and felt a little like home. The basket (so Mary Margaret that it gave her a little chill) and the china plates, the metal fork with flourishes around the handle and the cloth napkin. These were courtesies she had not expected and that she struggled with for longer than a little. She had thrown a micro pity party a few minutes before, alone and hungry. She had pictured a lump of stale bread and a pitcher of water for supper and her eyes had watered a little. And then she pulled herself together because that's what she did (and she was Snow White's prisoner and this was not the Bastille. Nor the Enchanted Forest.) And it would not do, that kind of behaviour. She was a queen if not in fact than at least in title and she would do well to behave as such. But when the Sheriff walked in and placed the basket in front of the bars and she felt the scent of warm food that had not been fried at Granny's, she had to fight tears of gratitude.

Emma did not miss it, the way Regina's eyes shone more intensely and how she lowered her head the way she did when she was trying to hide a reaction. She did not miss the sigh of relief. She wasted no time in serving the two plates. She'd had dinner at Snow's but Regina needed the company more than she needed the food. The woman touched the cloth napkin and held the fork as if she had decided never again to take any of those things for granted, her expression unguarded for once, allowing Emma to read her accurately for once.

"David cooked" She said apologising in advance, her face one of hopeful acceptance that Regina had seen that very first day in her driveway. But this time, she could smile this smile that welcomed instead of push away and she could accept this wonky affection Emma wanted to give. Despite how afraid she still was. She smiled through the lumpy mash and the slightly burnt chicken. A smile that included Emma and brought them closer into this place that they alone dwelled. "He burnt it… a little."

Regina hated mash. It was food for weaklings, the chicken was salty and burnt. "He did, yes…" It was the best meal she'd ever tasted. She smiled to herself. It tasted a lot like affection.

Emma ploughed valiantly through her second burnt, lumpy dinner of the night. They needed to prepare a defence. They needed to anticipate all that the accusation would say, they needed to defend or deny those things. Hell, Emma needed to hear those things first. She needed to know and get used to it. She needed to defend it in her own heart first. She needed to believe Regina had reasons to do whatever she had done. She needed that more than any law degree, more than luck, more than reason. She needed it for herself. She moved closer to the bars, closer to Regina, both sitting uncomfortably on the floor, both not caring. All that was important was their hands together through the bars, because their shared warmth was the way they communicated more effectively, the way neither shied away from the words none had much experience saying out loud.

"We need to prepare a defence, Regina."

"We?"

"We. As in you and me kind of thing."

"Are there no lawyers in Snow's new realm?"

"I don't think there are any of anything. Lawyers or doctors or teachers. Or bakers or shopkeepers. It's like everyone just gave up." It was not totally true. It was not totally lying either which was important. And it did reflect Storybrooke accurately. No one wanted any of the roles the curse had attributed to them. They wanted to go back which was a general term of dissatisfaction more than an option on location.

"So… you're my lawyer…" What worried Regina was not Emma's competence. God only knew how everyone had muddled through law and medical situations without so much as one day attendance at a conventional school. What worried her was how much of the truth the sheriff could take. Having to tell Emma the truth about her. She was not prepared to let go of this, whatever this was that made her feel less alone than she had ever been in her whole miserable life. She did not want to see the disgust in Emma when she had to tell her all that she had done to keep herself alive and functioning.

"Yep."

"I see." She didn't, not really. Not through the sudden fear. Anyone's judgment was fair game. She could deal with it. She hadn't changed that much that she could bring herself to care what any joe, dick and harry would think of her. In the end, it would not make a difference. A villain was a villain no matter why or how come. A villain's only destiny where she came from was to be defeated- a script that never changed- and to be made an example of. But if she could keep anything for herself, she wanted a little of that night. She wanted a little of that uncomplicated and unreserved affection. She did not want to destroy that. Not to try and fail to save herself. She would prefer damning silence to an apologetic speech that would bring her no absolution because there was no absolution to be had.

"I asked Ruby and Leroy to take over tomorrow. I thought we could sit together and come up with a plan. You know… a strategy. You can give me an idea of what's going to be said in there and maybe… a reason or, hell, Regina, anything." Emma tried to be reasonable, to appeal to Regina's self preservation sense but the woman only nodded as if she was merely placating her. She felt dread build up in her. Their fingers together over the bars seemed to be taking all of Regina's attention. Emma chewed her lip. She needed to get through.

"Why did you kill your mom?" The question ripped Regina off her trance. Violently. Her eyes were intensely black, a single colour of mourning as if there had never been anything else to her but that torment inflicted by her mother. Emma had known it for minutes and it terrified the life out of her. How would it have been for Regina to grown up nurtured by it? Had there ever been a time Cora had not been like that? Had there ever been a moment she had been a mother?

"Because I hated her." Emma's bullshit meter flared up. Liar liar liar it screamed.

"Try again, Regina" Regina's hand cupped Emma's forcefully, squeezing with all her strength.

"Please…" The word was a broken sob. Emma saw it as if it had been narrated for her benefit: Regina was holding on to her hand trying not to lose touch with the reality that she was no longer in her mother's grasp. Trying not to be sucked into it- her- again.

Emma wanted to fight this battle for Regina which was as surprising now as it had been before, but the dragons inside you, well, they're a different kettle of fish, aren't they? There are no swords, no guns to slay them with. There are words and there are gestures, Emma reminded herself. Her forehead touched Regina's through the bars closing the space and distance between them. "Try, Regina. For Henry… for me?" Why would you even ask that? But it was said. And she wanted it to be true.

"She cursed my baby…" Stop right there! Emma did not want to hear anymore. Nothing good could come from this. Nothing at all. "She cursed my baby because it was a girl and Leopold already had a daughter." She looked at Emma then. Regina did not know how to pray. She had forgotten long ago who to pray to, who to believe. How to have faith. She had no prayers, only her eyes in supplication. "What would he want with another girl, Mother said." The tone of the words would haunt Emma forever. It was empty. There was nothing left of Regina in there. "My felt my baby dying inside me. You have no heart, Mother, I told her. She said Of course not, Regina, dear. I have a head on my shoulders, which is far more important. That's what she said when my baby died. Have a male. A king! She told me to be a good girl and birth a king."

Emma was paralysed, struck dumb. She felt she was losing control of her bodily functions, like she was going to pee right there and then, or vomit. Or scream. She wanted to scream. But Regina was dead calm. She wanted to fix Regina. Emma Swan of the hero complex wanted to fix Regina as if she were a broken doll and she had superglue in her hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Off with your head, Mother I told her. You know? I used a spell she had tried to teach me. I never had any magic before, Emma. I was useless. She told me so herself. But for the first time it worked. Her head came off. It was easier than cutting through butter. Just like that."

Emma understood. She honestly did. She felt it too, that need to kill Cora over and over and over again, as many times as it took, in bloodiest of ways until the anger subsided. "Good for you!"

"All magic comes at a price, Emma." Regina said in a mock sing-a-song voice.

"What price?" One day she would know all there was to know about where Storybrooke came from. She would understand the price of magic without having to ask.

"I can't have children of my own. That's the price I paid for retribution." Regina's hands were burning again against the bars, but Emma was holding her in place, inside herself and she wasn't getting lost again, no matter how much it hurt being back to that moment when she realised the magnitude of her loss. It seemed every single act of rebellion on her part had always been punished in the strictest of ways. Daniel. Her child. Her ability to have children. Her father. Snow. "After that… what was there to care about?"

"I would kill her again. For this, I would kill her again."

"I don't think she can be killed."

"I don't get it. She was alive. She was fucking alive when I saw her. I killed her."

"So did I. But she was alive enough to kill my father. And take his heart with her."

Emma wanted to tell Regina that it was OK to cry. That she understood. Only she didn't. She had never lost anything because she had never had those things. And giving Henry away was her own choice. Nothing had been ripped away from her. Understand? No. No she couldn't possibly.

It was a dream, because it felt like one and it looked like one. The Regina she knew did not cuddle. And yet, it was clear as day, Regina was leaning against Emma, Emma's arm around the woman's back, the other disappearing in her front. The air itself breathed peace and, oh good god, love. And when she moved to face them, she saw it, Regina's distended belly, full of life, and Emma's hand gently caressing it, all protection, all love. All family.

Snow awoke with a gasp, sweaty, her heart hammering in her chest. She cried then. Regret, envy, jealousy. Even betrayal.

It's not real. It's not real, the Queen whispered to herself and she burrowed into James' arms. It's not real.

Having broken down so thoroughly, Regina didn't quite know how to face Emma. Not that she had much choice. Or any. Not with the bars in between them and, certainly, not with the tight grip Emma had on her hand.

"Boss?" Leroy made it though the entrance of the cave bringing with him the blessed smell of coffee. Emma responded to the smell of coffee, waking up with a coffee first, Leroy, talk after. Leroy was not to be deterred, though, which Regina admired in anyone as long as the defiance was not towards her. "Actually, I wanted to speak to the Mayor, if it's all the same to you, sister."

That got Emma's hackles up. "Leroy, so help me…".

"I huh… when I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong, OK?"
"Have you been drinking on the job?"

"Why? Just because I used to drink it don't mean I'm a drunk…" Emma gave him the actually it does look that needed no words. "Look, I just wanted to say sorry, OK? To the Mayor. The queen… or whatever. I had no business being all… troll that day when they… we… took you." Emma's jaw dropped a few inches. "Being in Storybrooke actually beats the mine and an axe in your hand every day. As far as I'm concerned, no harm done in coming here."

Regina simply slid onto the cot behind her, not quite sure she could comprehend the words. Not quite certain that they had been addressed to her, her legs just giving under her. Where were her snarky remarks when she needed them the most? She could deal with dislike, distrust, and outright hate. But she was absolutely not equipped to deal with… this.

Unable to reply, she merely nodded towards the dwarf.

It had to be the strange emotion running through her like a river through a parched land, but when Regina made a grab for her coffee, the one Leroy had brought her as peace offering, her stomach revolted and spasmed violently. She threw up until the dizzy spell receded and her throat felt on fire. No coffee then. OK, she could deal with that. It was just the emotion. Or a stomach bug. Who knew what those Charmings had cooked up.

The former King George entered the cave without so much as announcing itself. "What now?" Emma snapped. "Just because there is no door, doesn't mean this is an open house!"

He was not really her grandfather, Emma dispelled it in her head. He was not James' real dad, thus, not family. Which made it ok for her to hate his guts. Thoroughly.

"Easy now, Sheriff. Or should I say Princess? No?" He pretended to consider. "Counsellor? Maybe not." The derision in his tone aggravated Regina. He took a few more steps to come face to face with her. "Be that as it may. Is the defence quite prepared?" He was talking to Emma but, really, he was measuring Regina, measuring the impact of the words. "The… Crown… will be demanding the capital punishment."

How on earth had she not recognised a queen in Regina before the curse broke? Regina rose from the cot and sauntered to the bars, carefully not touching them. It was as if she was walking in the rose garden of the White House and not on the subterranean jail she was kept in away from the sun and the fresh air. And the way she approached dear old gramps was a good enough show that she feared neither him, nor the Crown and as if a trial was a trifle thing that held no weight over her head. As if nothing could touch her. "You will do your best, George. And, like at so much in your life, you will fail." She smiled in that way she had that made people think that she knew all their deepest, darkest secrets and was about to air them. George, it seemed, was not immune to that smile, because he could come up with nothing better than a we shall see and turned on his heel.

"No need to dress up for the trip, Ms Mills." he shot from the entrance. "The bars will not open, so I hope you find this venue comfortable as you will not be leaving it any time soon."

Emma gave him a look that was her version of an extended middle finger. It had none of the punch Regina's packed, but it was heartfelt.

Regina sighed deeply. Emma leaned against the bars. "I'm scared, Emma." Nothing in her life had ever felt like such a bitter sweet victory. Emma craned her neck through the bars and stole a kiss. Their very first kiss since the curse had broken.

"Me too."