Atonement

by Bond.Jane

The curse breaks and Regina is held prisoner by the citizens of Storybrooke to be made to pay for her crimes. But she is no longer the same person she once was: Emma gave her back her heart and a gift she never believed would be possible.

19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Snow snuck a look from behind a nearly closed door. The room was full and there was some sort of picture on a tripod in the middle of the room, right in front of her desk, which was an aggravation even before she knew what it was, who had put it there and what for. It was, as Emma was fond of saying, a pisser. She rubbed at her temples with vigor, but the incipient headache refused to dissipate.

James approached her with a glass of water in his hand. "I come in peace."

"I'm not mad."
"The stormy expression suits you but begs to differ. I know you're upset at me."
"I'm not."
"You are. You think that I am not on your side in this."

"We're married, Charming, not conjoined twins."

James laughed. That was his Snow, the spunky firecracker of the Enchanted Forrest. "All the more reason for you to expect for me to fall in line with you. Here, have some water." He insisted and she took the glass but did not drink. "I love you, Snow, more than any cliché can say. But Emma is my child too. I think sometimes you forget that. And I love her in any way she will let me. But it's more than that. You know it. The same way Regina tried to kill you, she saved my life- twice. I want that to be known. I want… Justice, I guess. Which is a funny thing at the best of times. Difficult to stomach. But I want for Regina the same thing I would want for me. A fair judgment, a fair trial."

"I don't know how to do that, Charming. How can I decide that on my own? What are we even doing here? I was so sure in the beginning, you know? That I could do this. That we could do this. We have it all: the witnesses, the defense and the prosecution, the arguments, but I'm just me. I feel what I feel and I feel like she's taking everything away from me, and no matter how much I try…"
"There are all those things in your head, aren't there, Snow? The Regina you met as a child, the one that tried to have you killed more times than we can count; the Mayor, Henry's mom… Emma's…"

"Emma's what? Girlfriend? Lover? Love interest? You tell me, Charming, because… they've been together for what? 10 days? Emma lived with me, Charming, and I don't think they were together before the curse broke. That is not time enough. That is not time enough."
"It's time enough, Snow, you know that. Time is never a measure for love. Certainly not for true love."

"James! You can't say that."

"Drink your water Snow. It will help."

"It's not true love. Stop saying that."

"Come here, Snow. Just come here." And he pushed the heavy door open a crack, enough for both of them to look through - Snow reluctantly, James in earnestness. "Look at them. Look at your daughter. Do you know where I know that look in her eyes from? The mirror. Snow, I've seen that in the mirror. When I saw you biting into that apple through Regina's mirror. I would have seen it in any mirror I had looked into when I was riding my horse to get to you from that glass coffin. You know what that look is? It's the look of someone who will do anything, sacrifice anything for the person they love. If that is not the measure of true love, I don't know what is."

Snow slumped against the door. Emma was talking, Regina was listening as if she did not dare hope. Regina stole one more glance at the poster sized picture and her eyes glistened with tears. It made those black eyes big, irresistible. Emma pulled Regina into her and cradled the woman in her arms, gently, so gently.

"There is no way I can do this, Charming. I hate her, I want her punished. Sometimes, I want her dead. God, she took so much from me. Us. And if I buy into this, into this Emma's True Love thing… I can't cost someone else their true love. Not again."

"Snow, we can do this. It does not have to be you alone. We can gather the council again. Or we can have everybody come in and cast a vote. Up to you. But you do not have to do this alone. The decision does not have to rest only on your shoulders, you know that, right?"

Snow nodded though her heart was not in it. The impulse, the attraction to punish Regina was far greater than anything else, than any other argument. She had spent a great deal of the night before chewing on the bone of betrayal. Regina had betrayed her. And if she was being honest, it was more than the death threats and all the attempts on her life. It was the knowing, clearly, undoubtedly, that Regina had not felt the same as she had, that her choices had not been Regina's.

"Okay." She nodded to persuade herself that it was. "Okay."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

The Prosecutor checked and rechecked the tub of Tums in his briefcase. It gave him a peculiar sense of safety to have it there and this time he was not taking any chances. How had the other one vanished? Had he dropped it? Had he dropped it where someone could see that he was using it, that he needed it? He adjusted the bundle of papers around it once more, just to be sure and then, satisfied that the Tums were not going anywhere, crossed his arms and prepared to wait. The Queen was probably powdering her nose or throwing a hissy fit behind the curtain. Women… the ideas they got, that they were as good as men. And this Snow had always been peculiar… Blame her father, for sure. But, he supposed, when you do not own a dog, you end up training your cat to hunt.

He smiled at the former Sheriff's poster sized photo. For all the gravitas of the black stripe he'd had the printers frame the image with, it could well have been a wake for the dead Sheriff. It was good. It looked good. And it was having the desired effect. And Snow White could take her sweet time because the longer she took, the more time there was for the populace in the cheap seats to measure up the Evil Queen against the good sheriff. The Evil Queen was already getting what she deserved: anyone trying to rise above their station in life deserved no less than a slap on the wrist. Snow was next. By all that was sacred, Snow would be next. And her cub.

The mob was getting agitated. The waiting did not sit well. Hell, if this had not been working so well on his behalf, he'd be heading the protests. The session was supposed to start at 9.30. Punctuality was next to godliness.

When the new queen came in, she was followed by her lapdog of a husband. She spared a look at the portrait and her face twisted in a half-smile of pity so common to the liberal hippies she headed in town. Good. He studied the mob. Very, very good. They sympathized with her, so he let it play out. He could not have scripted this better.

But the little wench just took the tripod and moved it out of the center stage he designed for it and put it by her side. It was still visible but it was losing impact.

"I'm not sure who decided to start today's session without me here." And he could feel her eyes boring holes on his forehead. Good, he liked having an effect on people. The one thing he did not like was indifference. "But I hope this is not part a lifetime habit of finishing without waiting for the other party."

The Prosecutor felt the smile die on his face. Smarmy little… woman.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Snow hit the gavel and the Prosecutor stood, slowly, deliberately, adjusting his tie and sleeves. Enjoying the moment.

"So far," The Prosecutor cleared his throat, "We have heard from the victims. They were heartfelt statements, mostly because they are not from independent witnesses but from the victims themselves. The defense tried – and failed- to color those statements as biased. I dare say that they have every right to be. But today we do not need to listen to statements. Today, we do not need to make allowances for the subjectivity, for the righteous resentment. We will see with our own eyes. We will not question their motives because there are none. There is only the truth. I call Sheriff Graham to the stand."

The silence in the room was thick enough to slice with a knife. The Prosecutor considered it a success almost as much as the wild look in the Evil Queen's eyes. He had seen fear in his life. He had cultivated it, relished in it. Used it. And that was fear. He didn't even think of the Tums in his briefcase. That look was soother enough.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Emma's hand found hers between their chairs and squeezed. It seemed that every cliché the Charmings spouted at the drop of a hat was true- Emma found her. She always did. She had found her buried under the ruin of her life and she had found her now, in the middle of the horror and the panic that she could not get under control. Of all the things she had done, of all the things that had not sit well on her conscience- or what was left of it- the dust of Graham's heart slipping like sand from her fingers was one of those that weighed the most. Emma's hand grabbed hers, her long, slim fingers slid between hers and, palm to palm, Emma's hand closed them tight bringing her back to where she could breathe, where there was light and truth.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

There was an ominous squeak squeak squeak unhurried, towards the side door of the court room. The prosecutor stood and walked to the door in silence while the squeak squeak squeak came closer and closer to the door. The Prosecutor opened the door and a gurney covered with a white sheet was pushed into the room, a wonky front wheel squeaking squeaking squeaking into the courtroom and coming to a complete and silent stop where Graham's poster sized picture had been.

Emma had to hand it to the Prosecutor: the old fart knew how to make an impression- with drama and aplomb, he pulled the white sheet covering the gurney an revealed a glass box- scratch that- a glass coffin with a corpse inside. Graham's.

He gave the audience a moment to gasp their horror.

The audience gasped in horror and some averted their eyes, others closed them. Others covered their mouths or their faces. Some openly cried.

Snow closed her eyes and refused to look. That was the end of it. She refused to see the waste of Graham's body, of the Sheriff of her little town, of the hunter with the clear gaze that had saved her life. She simply refused.

Regina froze, eyes open wide and fixed on the glass coffin. It seemed that her life was forever connected to those instruments of torture.

Emma was simply frozen between the very vivid memories- of Graham kissing her, of her face throbbing after that go around with Regina, of the slump of his body against hers when he died- and the rage, the almighty rage at having him displayed like a butterfly pinned to a cushion. Her throat closed and her words simply would not form beyond gurgles deep in her chest.

"I have come to the disturbing realization that in these last few days we have been gathering here, people seem to have forgotten what brought us here, to this land. I understand why. A few well placed questions and the defense white washes what this evil woman has done. A few manipulative tears, a few choice words and we start feeling sorry for her. We start believing that she might have some justification for the atrocities she has committed. We start telling ourselves that it's in the past. That things were different in the past. That people change. Well, people do not change. I called Sheriff Graham here to show you- because he can no longer tell his story- that the same way she killed back home, she killed now. How long ago, Sheriff Swan? Six months? Seven? She killed a good man, an honest man that refused to carry out her edict of killing Snow White in cold blood. She took his heart in her hand and destroyed it. Destroyed him. You should remember, Sheriff Swan or Princess or however you wish to be called today. You should know because he died in your arms. See him here now. Dead. Let his rotting body tell you what this woman can do today still. What she will do to those who threaten her, to those who stand in her way. She leaves behind only rotting corpses, only destruction. Only devastation.

"She killed her own lover because he was a threat. Do you really think that you will be safe from her when you all give in to your better nature and forgive for what she has done? Do you think your children will be safe from her when they are walking down Main Street and their path crosses hers? Let Sheriff Graham speak to you the only way he can. From the grave."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

That mother fu_ Emma stood, her legs shaking, heart pounding. Her hand was still in Regina's and for the first time she could really see what happened to a body once it had been buried: not much. There was nothing rotting, no pieces falling off, no vermin feasting on his body. Nothing much had happened. The suit was still the same Regina had picked out for him to be buried in; the hair was no longer puffy and windblown but lanky and dull. It was just the skin. It was grey and mottled darker grey and it seemed… closer to the bones, somehow. It made his permanent small smile only a memory. And that was it. Nothing more.

The dam broke then. "Are you out of your fucking mind?You disinterred a body. You do not have the authority to do it. Who did you ask? Why would you think that this is okay, to bring a corpse to a court room? I know what you want, what you think you can do with this… I… God! Do you stop at nothing? Do you respect nothing? Is it all a game to you?" She let her hand touch the glass coffin then, the tips of her fingers only. Poor Graham.

"No games, Miss Swan. And I do not need anyone's authority to do what I must to bring justice. Had I left Sheriff Graham where he was, there might have been justice for some- because make no mistake, Justice may take some time but it always- always- delivers- but there would be no justice for the Hunter because he was never heard in this court. And he paid the ultimate price. So he should have the ultimate reward. An eye for an eye is more that a saying, Miss Swan."

"Emma," Snow interjected from her desk. "Please cover that coffin."

"Is death making you feel ill, your Majesty?"

"Not death, no. And not Graham. But the display of his remains like this, yes. It's making me nauseous. Let's agree that you have made a point. That you have horrified us all enough and that no one will be able to forget about Graham in these proceedings. But there has to be some dignity."

"All of the Hunter's dignity was sucked out of him the moment that the Evil Queen took his heart to make him her slave and then killed him. After having him service her needs for all this time in this land. Or have we all forgotten how he was her lap dog? That took his dignity away. Not this display of what she left of him. Like a vulture, eating away at the flesh, leaving only the bones_"

"Enough!" Emma rounded on him and for a glorious moment she had no intention of stopping herself from pummeling his face with her fists until he simply stopped talking. Or breathing. "I told you once- save it for the closing arguments. Save it. I know you have enough bullshit in you to last you a thousand trials but, save it. Save it or I swear_"

"Emma!" The sound came from Regina and Snow realized that this was only the second time she heard her voice in all of this. It was a plaintive sound, soft, almost meek. But it had the effect of stopping Emma on her tracks.

"I will let that one slide by, Miss Swan, but only because I understand that being torn between your old lover and the current one must be doing unspeakable things to you."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Fuck! Snow thought. Come after me, but leave my daughter alone! "Enough. Mr Spencer. King George. However you want to be called. Enough. You will refrain from making speeches at this point. You have been warned about this before. And you may be the prosecutor and you may even have the authority to exhume a body but you have done so without any witnesses, without alerting this court of your intentions."

"I think this… witness… should be dismissed?" Emma asked.

"On what grounds?" The Prosecutor bellowed."
"On whatever legalese terms equal general fuckery. You keep on calling Regina evil and pointing your ugly finger at her and listing all the things she did wrong, but man, like for like, she did exactly the same things as you did during your reign and I, for one, never heard anyone calling you the Evil King. Is it because you're a man? Because that is only difference I can see between the two of you. I am done and tired of this shit. One standard for Regina and one for everybody else. How is this even fair? I move for the witness to be dismissed. And that is only a start. Put Graham back where you took him from. Whatever could be said about him and why he died, you've fucked him over by doing things your own way. If we are to stand any chance of this being even remotely a fair trial, Graham goes back and _"

Snow's heart was pounding and her fingers twitching for her bow and arrows. If George got so much as one inch closer to Emma, she was going to gouge his eyes out with her fingernails. "Sustained. Someone get this coffin out of here and_"

"I want Graham returned to where you took him from_"

"I want an autopsy of the body. I want_"

"Emma. No."

Snow, the Prosecutor and Emma were immediately silent, their eyes zeroing in on Regina, standing ramrod straight.

Snow was sure she could hear Regina and Emma's hearts beating in tandem, Emma's in anger and Regina's in… what was that? What was that expression on her face?

Emma walked to Regina and took the woman's hands in hers as if she could make her see reason trying to stop whatever Regina was going to do. Emma knew what Regina was going to do. Magic. That was it. Regina had found a way and she was going to annihilate them all and Emma was trying to stop it. She looked around for Blue because the fairy was still her go to holder of magic and gave her a pointed look of get ready and the fairy, to her credit, nearly jumped from her seat and was behind Emma and Regina in a fraction of a second, ready to do whatever it took to stop Regina.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

To Emma it was as if time had come to a sudden stop, much a like a train - a jolt and a sudden halt. She had not felt her feet moving to Regina nor their hands coming together. She didn't know if she had spoken but the message in Regina's eyes was clear as day and it said it's time and I will do this now and Emma wasn't even sure if she was trying to stop this or reveling in it.

She only knew that her heart was swollen, full to the brim of pride and love. "Are you sure?" And those were the only actual words Emma spoke in a conversation that had been absolutely wordless.

"Yes." It came out soft and it set time in motion again. Emma swallowed the knot in her throat.

"It's true." Regina spoke to the court and despite the almost whisper of it, the sound carried through the room, to every single person there. "It's true. I killed Graham."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

The feeling of time suspended ended with those words as if they'd had power over the flow of history. Snow's mouth moved but no words came out. Not that she was sure what she was going to say or what she was thinking at all.

"So you admit it? You are finally admitting to one of your villainous acts?" The prosecutor was all in Regina's space, even with the desk between them.

Snow's gavel hit the table then and it brought the Prosecutor to attention. "You have been warned before about the character assessment and judgment, so back off and have a seat. Or so help me, I will send you to the naughty step until you cool off." The Prosecutor took a step back but there was a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Now," Snow continued when she was sure the Prosecutor had moved away from Emma and Regina. She moved to the glass coffin and draped the white sheet over it. Can someone please remove the coffin from this room? Grumpy, please. Do you mind?"

Grumpy wheeled the coffin away and Snow took the portrait out of the tripod just to gain some time. This was unexpected. Shockingly unexpected. What on earth was she supposed to do now?

She pulled the witness chair next to her desk and called Regina, who walked to it as she had to the gallows in the middle of the public square of the castle so many years ago, with an air of dignity about her. The only thing that was not there was the arrogant defiance.

Snow rubbed at the makings of a migraine and cleared her throat. "The Prosecutor will remember, please, that this is not a circus. It may not be the most conventional court that ever convened, but it is not a circus and I will not tolerate aggression or any further comments about the character of the defendant. The naughty step remains and will be used if needed." Then she took in Regina's form, hands tightly clasped on her lap, a vein pounding away on her neck. There was not much difference to the 17 year old Regina she had met, the one that sat for tea under her mother's close –and ruthless- scrutiny and her father's helpless fawning. "Are you ready?" She asked in a tone that was only for Regina.

The surprised look Regina could not hold in check left a bitter taste in Snow's mouth. Then there was a flash of gratitude and, with quick swipe of her index finger at the hair that hung onto her face, the Mayor- or at least a more composed Regina- was there in front of Snow. "Yes."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Delightful. Absolutely delightful. The queen admitting to murder. Just like that. Absolutely delightful. And looking bedraggled and fragile. See? This was it. There were times she doubted herself. Times she thought that everything was going pear-shaped, but in the end it was a question of trust, that she had played good cards and that the odds were in her favor.

She could all but taste the queen's defeat from where she sat. She could smell that defeat and it was a very satisfying scent. She crossed her hands in her lap, demurely, fly on the wall, and prepared to enjoy the moment quietly.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

In a manner of speaking, Regina had always known that her life would meet a violent end. That her actions would be judged and she would be found lacking. That was, after all, all she knew about life - that no matter how much she tried, she always failed, she always lost.

She had just not expected for the judgment to come while she was still alive. The way of the Enchanted Forest was to execute first and judge after. She also had not expected the way all of this was happening: Emma, Henry… and love, an active shield, so different from the passiveness of her father.

The Prosecutor sauntered to her. A wounded predator became prey very, very fast, after all. "Why don't you tell us, then, Your Majesty," The Prosecutor performed a very mocking bow to Regina, "how you came to possess a Hunter that ran with wolves."

Regina stole one final glance at Emma and tried to covey with it how sorry she was. How none of it was the person she had wanted to be when she was growing up. "I took his heart."

"Why?"

"He defied me."

"By not killing your daughter and bringing you her heart. And then what?"

"Step-daughter. My step-daughter's heart. I kept his heart. I made it clear to him that if he disobeyed me again, I would crush that heart and he would die."

"So you got yourself an obedient little dog. But that was not enough, was it? You wanted to reduce him to little more than a slave. That's why he was brought to your chambers every night. Did you ever give him a choice? Did you ever consider his feelings?"

"Haven't you heard? I don't worry about anyone else's happiness but my own."

"That much is clear. And when you brought us over to this hellhole, you ensured that he continued to provide you with such services. You kept a man as your personal sex toy for 40 years. And when he disobeyed you, when he tried to break free from you and swap you for another, you killed him. You killed a good man. You took his heart in your hand and you crushed the life out of him. There is a certain symmetry to it, isn't there, that you had your lap dog killed and then replaced with the very one that he wanted to dump you for. Is that your idea of poetic justice? Or is it simply that your dogs must always be policing the rest of us? Is that why you choose lovers? How you control them? With your body?"

"No."

"No? What does that even mean?"

"It means Leave Emma out of this. Don't touch her name. Don't utter her name. Don't you dare soil her name with you dirty mouth and your dirty mind."

"Because you are the cleanest person to ever utter her name… But I digress. The question is: Or what? I suppose your dog is running free after all. And she's our reigning monarch's daughter. So, in fact, that was an inspired moment of clairvoyance, to replace the Hunter with someone far more useful, more untouchable. Killing two birds with one stone. Will you have me killed too?"

"Never mind her. You talk about my daughter like that again and I will kill you myself. I won't send anyone after you." James stood from his seat and spoke directly to the Prosecutor. "Just so we're clear."

"I'd say we're quite clear. The law has become a family business in Storybrooke. Or lack thereof."

"As opposed to the one man band it was in your kingdom?" Snow enquired softly. "None of us here has forgotten your rule, King George. Give the rhetoric a rest. Do you have any further questions for the defendant?"

"Funny how using formal trial worlds makes us believe we are facing a real trial… But yes. One more." He turned to Regina and time skipped a beat. "What of your father?"

"What about my father?"

"You loved him dearly, I understand."

"Yes. My father was the person I loved the most."
"Is that why you named your adopted son after him?"

"Yes. I named my son Henry after my father."

"And yet, all that love meant nothing for him. Given the fact that he died the moment you ripped his heart out of his chest to cast the curse with it."

Once more Regina sought Emma out. There was a little girl's laughter echoing in her heart, telling her that Emma would stand with her through this. She tried her best to believe it. But the truth was if she were hearing this about someone she loved, she was not quite sure there would be any amount of feeling, of desire that would surpass the absolute disgust and revolt. Emma's face was pinched but it did not avoid hers. Emma gave her small nod of encouragement. "Yes."

"I seem to remember you as far more verbose than these monosyllabic replies would suggest, Your Majesty."

"And I seem to remember you preferring that from your witnesses. Must facilitate your understanding of their replies, no doubt." Regina deadpanned and Emma giggled. An honest to god giggle. There were some echoes of it from the silent crowd.

"You killed the person you loved the most. Your father. In cold blood. The man who always protected you, who always covered for your many sins. You have a funny notion of loyalty and love. Killing your own father for personal gain. That is despicable in my opinion." And he looked around the room as if daring the crowd to have a different one.

"Luckily for us, no one asked your opinion." Emma quipped from her seat where James was whispering something in her ear.

"More's the pity." The Prosecutor retorted. "It seems that the whole of this town needs a refresher course on morals. And family values."

"From you?" Emma stood because really, this was better done with some height advantage. "The man who sends his son to his death for a truckload of gold from King Midas and then sends his replacement son to his death to cover up for the death of the original model? And then has him killed by beheading for loving a woman without a throne? I'm sure I would love to sit through one of those." Emma's boots pounded on the wooden floor when she approached the Prosecutor standing between him and Regina. "Now, I have a question for you from my very own pretty little head: your wife died quite young. You never remarried."

"I was heartbroken."
"I'm sure you were. I'm sure it means you never again had sex."

"That is my personal business. Stay out of it."
"No. You minded mine so call it turn about which is fair play. Does that mean that you never again had sex? Were you made impotent by your wife's death?"
"Don't be ridiculous."

"Okay. So is it fair to say that you had plenty of it? Of sex, I mean. With consenting adults, no doubt. Though memory serves some of the residents of Storybrooke quite well. And they remember your preference for young girls at your service."

"That is none of your business."

"Yeah, it is. You engaged in sex acts with young girls at your service. Did they go to you of their own free will?"

"Of course!"

"I wonder how much free will there is when you are 15 or 16, at the service of a king."

"None, Princess. None." A woman in her forties stood up from the crowd. "I had none. Not with him."

"This is preposterous. She was not my sex slave. How can you even compare?"

"Consent is key, King George. You did the same thing are you are pointing your finger at. This woman did not consent. Others did not consent. Graham did not consent. Same difference. You both did the same. Get down from your high horse."

"Emma_" Snow interrupted. "Just because they both did it, just because everybody else was doing it, it does not excuse such behavior."

"No, it does not. But what it does is prove that there has always been two standards- one for him, one for men and another for women. She did nothing that he did not do himself. She killed. He killed. He was a king. She was a queen. Hell, if we're going to nit-pick, you killed, Snow. James did too. Granny. Red. The dwarves. You all have blood on your hands. But it seems that she is the only one standing trial. And it seems that he is always excused of the same shit because he's a man. She gets to be the villainous murderer slash rapist because she's a woman. If we're going to punish her for it, at the very least, I want to know what everybody else's excuse for it is."

There was no reply from any of the parties. Not a sound. "No? Thought so. We are all so justified, aren't we?

"Ah, but this is simply ridiculous... next thing you'll all be… burning your bras in the public square." The Prosecutor stood. "It's always something with you: either the poor childhood or the fairies were not there or a marriage or a daughter... always something, always whining, whining, whining. There is no excuse for what she has done. None. And if nothing else proves that she is a heartless snake, the fact that she turned on her father, the fact that, in cold blood, she ripped his heart out of his old chest to feed her curse, proves it. Beyond any reasonable doubt. And as we sit here, I see no regret. I see not an ounce of apologetic behavior. Not a crumb of remorse. All I see is defiance and arrogance."

"Oh, for the love god," Emma seemed endowed with infinite patience at that moment. "Leave my underwear out of this and for once, try not to get too carried away by your own press. Most of you sitting here today have seen Regina's defiant face before. Not just in Storybrooke when her son fell down the mine or when this very building exploded with us inside. I'd say you should be well familiar with that expression as you have never seen any other. The same way you are accustomed with Ruby's micro skirts or Granny's TNT coffee or Gold's shady deals or the Prosecutor's sour face. It is what it is and there is no point in talking about it any further. We all protect our secrets in whatever way we are capable of. But she is sitting here today. Did any of you force her to it? Understand it any way you want it. God knows that will always be the case. But I do want to ask a few things. Because I too am tired of getting answers only from other people. I want to know, Regina, where was your father when you were given all tied in a pretty little bow to the king. Did your father know that you did not want that marriage? Did he know that your mother's ambitions were not yours?"

Regina looked trapped. She was paralyzed in her chair, looking at Emma as if Emma had turned on her. Her mouth dried and her heart beat violently against her ribs and it felt like her lungs were going to explode, to rip her body apart. No. This was not okay. She could talk about Graham. She could cop up to all of it. Every single sin. She could tell every single sin she had committed, every slight she had caused, every knife she had turned on each wound. Her beating heart inside her chest knew every single one of those sins. Every last one. But her father? Her father had done nothing but try to protect her. Her chin slumped to her chest and it was difficult to try to get past Emma's betrayal. Emma should have known. Emma should have known. "Emma, please, don't."

"Don't what, Regina? Don't talk about your daddy? Was he a good daddy? Protective? Faithful?"

"He was the only one that never left me."

"Was he a good father? Tell me, Regina, was he all you needed him to be? Please tell me that he stood between you and your mother. Please tell me that he stood between you and your husband. Or you and yourself. I'll settle for that. Tell me that when he saw you on the downward spiral, he fought you tooth and nail to save you from yourself."

Regina remained stubbornly silent, tears pricking at her eyes like pepper.

"Please, Regina, tell me. One thing a time. Did he try to stop your marriage to the king?"

"No." Regina carved her nails on her palms until she felt the pain tingle in her spine. Of all her many betrayals, this was the one, the one that her father could not possibly forgive her.

"Did you tell him that you did not want to marry the king?"

Emma steeled herself to ignore the hurt in Regina's eyes, the silent pleading, the begging to drop the subject. She took one deep breath and it was acrid and painful. Regina whispered the answer: "Yes."

"When your mother taught you, when she showed you the way, did your father ever stand between you and her? Did he ever stop her?"

"We do not_" It must have hurt Regina's throat to speak, it must have burnt all the way from her stomach to her eyes, but Emma did not cave, did not let go of the whip of her words. "We do not speak of such things."

"Did he stop her, Regina?" It nearly broke Emma in half, to hold fast, to oppose Regina in that way that made her look like she was self-destructing. Or worse yet, that Emma was pressing the button herself. "Did he ever stop her?"

"He tried."

"Did he stop her?"

"He tried, Emma. He tried."

"But he failed."

Regina shook her head in denial and it was as if that minute movement was painful. Emma could see her struggling with the truth and saw the moment she lost. "Yes."

Emma wanted to go over to that chair in view of all of Storybrooke and make this stop. She wanted to take Regina in her arms and let her cry until it felt better.

"Did he ever stop you? All those times you tried to kill Snow, all those plots, all that anger, all that hate... did he ever stop you, did he ever just tell you that you were turning into your mother? Did he give you anything to feel that was not hate and anger and resentment? Did he ever stop you from doing those things?"

"He tried."

"Did he stop you?"

"He tried. Please Emma. He tried."

"But he failed."

She would not cry, Regina promised herself. She would not cry. "It was not his job to do that."

"It damned well was. Did he fail, Regina?"

"Yes."

"He failed you in every way."

"He was a wonderful father."

"No, Regina, he wasn't." And there was infinite patience in Emma's tone. Kindness, too. She knew she was taking away the last of Regina's illusions about her family.

"What would you know? What would you know about family?" She could see the regret as soon as the words left Regina's lips.

"Not a thing." Which was not true. Not anymore anyway. "But I do know- from personal experience- that having a child does not make you a parent any more than having a piano makes you a pianist."

"Don't talk about my daddy. Leave him out of this. I killed him. I killed him. Leave him out of this."

"Do you love your father?"

"Yes!"

"Despite everything? Despite all his failings?"

"Yes, I do."

"And still you killed him. To cast the curse, you put your hand through his chest, took out his heart and killed him."

One tear. One tear alone fell down Regina's cheek. And then another. Her hand shook as it swiped at each tear in turn. It pissed Emma off. It pissed her off that she had to put Regina on display to prove something she knew in her heart, without any further proof, to be true: that Regina's life was built on nothing but regrets and sorrow and disappointment. It pissed her off but she had to prove it to everybody sitting in that courtroom. So she let the tears be seen. Even though Regina would hate her for it. For going after each one of her weaknesses and showing it off to the whole town. It was betrayal. Emma knew she had betrayed Regina. And that Regina would not forgive her for it. Hell, she had a hard time forgiving herself for it. But she was not old Henry. No, that she wasn't. She would fight Regina tooth and nail if needed to save her. Because she knew not one thing about family except that you give the ones you love their best chance. Even if it costs you the world.

Emma waited a beat. She waited through the Prosecutor calling it all an unimaginative hoax and crocodile tears and bad piece of acting. Regina was closed off, a wall between her and the world that left Emma on the outside. Then, she asked for a recess.

One look from Snow to Regina, eyes vacant as if she was no longer there and the gavel hit the table.

"I know it's early, but let's break for lunch. Or coffee. Let's reconvene at 1 o'clock."

The sound of the gavel on the table reverberated through Regina's whole body as if a sentence had been passed.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Emma stood between the paralyzed crowd and Regina. This was it, this was that moment of the one more word and the dam will break, so for a few seconds she did nothing, just stood there, unable to make a decision on how to push forward. In the end, Granny came to her rescue again.

"Alright folks, 50% off your coffee for this morning only to go with freshly baked goods. At full price, of course." It seemed to break the spell and the crowd spilled out in waves of noise like a receding tide of the Atlantic.

Snow stood and walked away from her desk. She wanted to say something so badly, she wanted to break that intense concentration of Emma's, that way that she focused solely on Regina and everything else disappeared from her radar. But there was no point. No, having birthed a child made her no more a parent than that piano of Emma's speech. She hoped to all that was holy that letting go at the moment did go some way to it.

She was the last one to exit the room and closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry." Emma crouched in front of Regina. "I'm so sorry." Tentatively, she put her hands on Regina's legs and rubbed softly, aiming for a soothing motion. "I keep on hurting you and… Jesus, Regina, I'm so sorry. Please. I know you're pissed. I made you look weak in front of them. I made you look at your dad. I know that. But…" Regina stood then and walked to her usual seat. "Talk to me. Regina, please…"

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

The trouble with her was that along the way, somewhere, Regina has lost the ability to hear, to comprehend an apology. She had lost the ability to accept it. As if it was a foreign language, a foreign concept, a foreign land.

The trouble with her was she was not sure she deserved this apology. Or that she needed it. She hoped Emma could know that, because Emma had a way of understanding her even when she used all the wrong words or when she had no words at all.

The trouble with her was, when she turned to Emma, her brain could not keep up with the speed of her body and she lost her footing. The trouble with her was, there was a stopper in her throat and she could not breathe and her vision went dark around the edges.

Thank god she could smile still. Or she hoped she did.

The trouble with her was, the world went dark and slid from under her feet before she could say anything to Emma.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Regina's eyes fluttered closed and she slid to the floor. Emma reached out her arms and somehow managed to cushion the fall with her own body. Then she slid to the floor and held Regina to her. Air became a syrupy thing that refused to work with her lungs. Her hands ran over Regina's face and she tried to revive her, she called Regina's name and blew cold air on her face that was now pale and sickly. She pulled at the turtle neck of Regina's sweater to try to make it easier for Regina to breathe but the collar was there and did not give an inch. She rubbed Regina's arms trying to activate circulation. What the hell were you supposed to do when some faints in your arms? She thought of screaming. Someone would come. Someone would always come.

She pulled at the turtle neck of the sweater again, carefully trying to slide it from under the collar. When the wool finally gave, Emma wished for a brief second it hadn't. The skin was blistered, burnt, macerated where the collar sat every day. The exact same shape. She touched the collar and it felt warm to her fingers, an unnatural heat that had nothing to do with Regina's body heat and everything to do with magic. She tried to slip her fingers under it, to break it or melt it or anything, anything at all that would rid Regina of it. God, how could she have sat there, day after day with that thing burning through her skin? And how could Emma be so dim, so careless that she had not noticed it? On hindsight, she could do the math. She could remember Regina not undressing, she could remember how they had touched each other through clothes, how Regina had clung to the wool like a drowning person to the last plank of wood. And Henry. This was what Henry had seen. Hindsight. Always 20/20.

Emma was angry, just so angry, at herself for not noticing. At Regina for not complaining. At Henry for not telling her. Just so angry. She pulled at the collar again and again, careful not to let it touch the skin, not to inflict any more damage.

The fairy. She was going to murder that fairy and use her skin for a drum.

But then Regina's eyes fluttered open and relief washed over her in a wave of sweat and a shiver and Emma was never so thankful for anything in her life.

"Welcome back."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Emma's hands were on her face and it made her smile. She opened her eyes because Emma was right there, holding her, arms around her, legs under her. All she knew was Emma. She smiled. Then her eyes focused and lost the dimness at the edges of her vision and all she could see was Emma, her hair, her eyes and she relaxed. Safe. She was absolutely safe.

Emma tucked the wool of the turtle neck back under the collar and for a horrible second, Regina knew that Emma had seen it and was going to talk about it. She touched her hand to Emma's and asked her, quietly, to not go there. To not say a word about it.

Emma's sigh was, perhaps, the best acquiescence she was going to get.

"I'm sorry, Regina." Regina wanted to touch that face but her hands and her arms were not cooperating. If there was one thing she understood it was people doing things with her best interest at heart. Her mother had been an expert at that. Emma was different. Emma was different.

"You needed to know that I regret it."

"No. I know you do." Emma was so very different. "I just wanted them to see it. I'm sorry."

"How can you do this? How can you stand by me through all of this?" Emma adjusted her body around Regina and tightened her arms as if that was reply enough.

"There is no better place to be."

"How do you know I'm not plotting to take you down when you're looking the other way?" Regina's fingers touched Emma's hand closed tight around her arm and studied it, committed it to memory. "How do you know that the Prosecutor is not right? That I am not manipulating you? What evidence do you have?"

"None. I mean, I've had your mother in my head and your heart in my hands. I had your heart in my hands. But proof? None. I just believe you."

"And that's enough for you?"

"Yes."

"Super power?"

Emma blushed a deep shade of red before she answered. "No. Something else."

Regina's heart pounded, alive, alive, alive. "I dreamed of you last night."

"What did I do?"

"You had brown eyes. You were little and had fireflies in your hair and brown eyes."

"Me?"
"Yes, it was you. You said you were hope. My hope."

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

"I would love that."

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

Blue came into the room with the rest of the crowd, unhurried. There was time. The key to everything was time. She stared at a man sitting centre of the second row until he stood, uneasy, and gave her his seat. He found himself a spot standing against a wall and studiously avoided so much as glancing in her direction again. Vanity dictated it was a good thing. Caution said otherwise, but her train of thought was interrupted by the Sheriff who pushed through the first row toppling chairs and attendees to get to her. The sheriff grabbed her by the wool of the blue cardigan and pulled her to her feet. "Take it off. Take it off of her now. Right the fuck now, do you understand me?" The sheriff spoke softly in her ear and it would have been, if she was so inclined, far more threatening than if she had screamed or punched her. But as it was, it was enough to attract the curious eyes of the closest part of the crowd that had already settled down. Okay. She was game. "Your highness, what are you doing? Please put me down. You are hurting me. Please." The plaintive tone came naturally to her. Years and years of not being able to use it to full effect and still she had not lost it. Huh… good. It went a small way to placate her.

True to form, the princess shook her in her uniform. Oh this was just too good. "You know what it does to her. You know what that shit is doing. Take it off now."

"It is stopping her from using magic, Your Highness."

"It's hurting her."

"Your highness_"

"Quit it with the title. Take it off."

"You know it is there for protection. To protect us from her powers. Surely," Her voice was rising with each word, making it audible to more and more rows of the crowd. People were staring now and looking uncomfortable. "Surely you understand how dangerous she is to all of us. You were not there, Princess. You do not know what she is capable of."

"No. You have no idea what I am capable of." The sheriff punctuated every word with a shake of her hands. Good. This was so good.

The queen rose from her seat and Blue did a little shrinking into her habit. Fear. Every moron in Storybrooke should be able to see fear and take it as their cue. "Emma." The queen mumbled from her spot. The crowd was uneasy at best. Maybe a tear would sway them.

And then that busybody Widow Lucas was in on the action again, pulling the Sheriff by the scruff of her neck. Just when things were going so well. Alas, you could not manage every single detail. Which was a shame. The widow whispered something to Emma that silenced the woman. Then again, it made for a more interesting and eventful game.

The sheriff released her and looked at the queen with a pained expression.

And she felt stronger immediately.

.

.

Sister Astrid watched from the door with a heavy heart.

~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~

After that, the afternoon was a blur to Regina. The crowd settled down behind her. They whispered things and commented and even if she'd had it in her to care, there was no laughter, no mocking. No threat. It was a strange place to be because she was so used to being at odds with everything and everyone that not feeling that active barrage of distrust or fear or dislike felt like wearing a skin that is not really hers.

Snow hit her gavel on the table. The same gavel, the same table Regina had used as Mayor. She called the session to order and ordered the Prosecutor to proceed. He looked at the assembled Storybrooke with something akin to hate and declared that the Prosecution rested.

The prosecution rested.

She had prepared to sit through weeks, months, years of grievance upon grievance. She had expected the citizens of Storybrook to queue for that chair, to face off with her, to demand justice for themselves, for their loved ones. She had prepared for a crescendo of hate, of fury, of indignation. Steeled herself for it. She knew she deserved it.

But Storybrooke was quiet. She looked for the woman that had spoken about George and his predilection for young girls in his bed. She wanted to see that you could survive that and not be her. She needed to know it was possible to do better than she herself had done. She found her sitting behind Emma, studying her with a clinical interest, a certain detachment. But no animosity.

"Well, then, is the defense ready?"

Emma nodded and stood, leaned against Snow's desk, organising her thoughts. "I'm not here to tell you all that you are wrong. You're not. But I am here to tell you that there are always, at the very least, two ways to look at things, two opinions, two perspectives, two sides to every story. I know you've been hurt. I know you have left things behind that you miss, that you are angry about leaving. But I would hope you could think about the things you have gained. Some people have agreed to come here and remind you that you all gained something. Even if you cannot out right see it. I hope that maybe you just need reminding. So I'd like to call Prince Charming."