Happy holidays!

Chapter 2

She'd faced countless challenges throughout her life and overcome every challenge with her special kind of determinism. Some might have even labeled it as obsession. But for perhaps the first time in her adult life, she was hesitating.

Regina stared up at the high-rise apartment complex and released a long, nervous breath. She'd driven by the building many times and had parked in front of it just as many. But as many times as she'd imagined pressing the call button to Henry and Emma's apartment, she'd never believed it would actually happen.

"Just go inside," she mumbled to herself. "Stop making excuses and go inside."

Her legs started to move, one foot in front of the other, until she was striding confidently across the street and smiling graciously at the uniformed doorman who held the front doors open for her entrance. Inside the apartment's front foyer, mailboxes lined the walls. Positioned near the last remaining barrier to the building-a final locked door-was a panel that listed the last name and apartment number for each resident. Regina looked for the name 'Swan,' but the space next to the apartment number she knew belonged to Emma Swan was blank.

"Old habits die hard," she murmured to herself.

Before she could second-guess her decision to accept Henry's dinner invitation, she pressed the white button next to the appropriate apartment number and waited.

"Who is it?" a voice crackled out.

Regina leaned toward the small speaker. "It's Regina."

"Who?"

Regina rolled her eyes. Emma Swan was as obnoxious as ever. "The woman who tried to save your son from a mugger earlier today?"

"Oh. Right." The main door buzzed unlocked. "Eleventh floor, last door on the right."

Regina chewed on the inside of her cheek as she waited for the elevator to arrive on the eleventh floor. When Emma had provided her with directions to the apartment, she'd had to pretend to write the address in her phone. She already knew where they lived, but she was eager to see inside of the two-bedroom apartment.

The elevator reached the eleventh floor in what Regina thought was record time. She stepped into the empty hallway, which smelled strongly of curry. The heels of her stilettos were muffled by the thin carpeting that covered the floor as she made her way down the hallway and stopped in front of the last door on the right.

Regina sighed. So many doors, so many barriers, each offering her an opportunity to flee. She heard movement on the other side of the door, and before she could even knock, the door was tugged open.

"Hey," Emma breathed in greeting.

Regina stood in the doorway, momentarily frozen with disorientation. Emma's hair was pulled back in a messy bun, away from her face, which had the affect of accentuating her cheekbones. She wore chunky black-rimmed glasses perched on her button nose, and a striped cotton apron protected the clothes she'd worn that day from whatever was producing magnificent scents coming from inside of the apartment. Pancake batter seemed to be splattered on the apron and a light dusting of the powdered mixture streaked her cheeks.

"You coming in?" Emma asked. She pushed a loose stand of hair away from her face.

Regina blinked once. When had she started wearing glasses? She'd never noticed contacts before. "Of course, yes."

She stepped through the doorway and took a moment to regain her bearings. The apartment was small, but clean and bright. The appliances in the kitchen were stainless steel and the recessed lighting provided the midtown apartment with a warm glow. There wasn't a proper dining room, but a table in the corner of the living area, plus the kitchen island was more than enough space as long as Emma didn't host elaborate dinner parties. Art hung on the walls and post-it notes and other reminders were on the refrigerator, giving the impression that life happened here.
Regina pressed a carton of orange juice into Emma's waiting hands. "Normally I'd bring a bottle of wine for the hostess," she explained, "but I thought this might be more appropriate with dinner."

Emma held the orange juice container like it was a bottle of fine wine. "Thanks. This is great," she warmly smiled.

The TV was on in the open-plan living room and Henry's back was to the front door, playing some military video game Regina never would have allowed, especially knowing someone was coming over for dinner. The sounds of yelling and rapid gunshots streamed through the surround-sound stereo system.

"Kid," Emma barked over the violent noise. "Turn that thing off. We have company."

Regina allowed herself a small, private smile. Maybe Emma wasn't entirely without propriety. She heard the quiet grumble of her son, but with no more argument, he shut off the game and the television.

"Hey," Henry beamed, bounding toward the front door. "You made it!"

Regina felt awkward standing in the front foyer with her jacket still on, but Henry's effervescent smile made it all worth it. "Of course," she gently smiled. "It would have been rude to turn down a dinner invitation."

"Can I take your coat?" he offered, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. It was something he'd done nearly the moment he'd learned how to walk, like there was too much energy in his little body.

"Yes, thank you." Regina shrugged out of the wool trench and handed it over to the boy who seemed even taller than when she'd seen him earlier that afternoon. Henry opened a closet door and hung the jacket up inside.

Now without her jacket, Regina brushed at the front of her skirt. She hadn't known what to wear for the occasion, but the only clothes she's brought with her were of the mayoral variety. Her wardrobe was limited and in the end she'd settled on a patterned pencil skirt and button-up blouse whose dark blue color she wasn't too modest to admit made the dark hue of her hair practically iridescent.

Emma had retreated back into the kitchen and continued to attend to the food on the stovetop burners. Regina could detect the scent of bacon in the air, although she couldn't see any. Hashbrowns sizzled in a giant saucepan and a griddle on the kitchen island awaited the pancake batter sitting beside it in a mixing bowl.

"Can I help with something?" Regina asked, following the blonde into the kitchen. She leaned against the kitchen island and urged her heart to stop pounding so loudly in her chest.

"I've got it covered," Emma insisted. "Besides, what kind of hostess would I be if I put you to work?" She opened the oven door and grabbed a cookie sheet from the top shelf. The scent of bacon became more pronounced as Emma pulled out the cooking sheet layered with sizzling meat.

Henry immediately reached for one of the still too hot pieces of bacon, only to have Emma playfully slap the top of his hand. "Nuh uh, kid. Why don't you go set the table?"

"Okay." Henry hung his head, properly chastised. Regina resisted the urge to push the long hair away from her son's forehead. Her fingers flexed at her side with inactivity.

Regina watched fondly after the boy as he went to his task without any protest.

"So what's your story?" Emma asked.

Regina jerked her gaze away from the brown-haired teen. "Story?" she echoed, training her eyes instead on the woman in the kitchen.

"Yeah. Are you in the habit of accepting dinner invitations from strangers in dark alleyways?"

Regina bristled, unprepared for the question. She felt woefully unprepared for everything about this meal. "There's no story. I-I just didn't want to be rude and turn down the invitation," she repeated her explanation.

Emma pointed the spatula in her hand at Regina. "You're not from around here, are you? First the attempt to save my son when you should have ignored his being mugged, and now worrying about being rude. That's not typical New Yorker behavior."

"You're right. I'm in town for business." She hadn't thought much about constructing a believable backstory since she'd never planned on coming face-to-face with either of her current dinner companions.

"Where are you visiting from?"

"I'm sure you've never heard of it," Regina dismissed with a flick of her hair. "It's a tiny town in Maine."

Emma flashed the other woman a disarming smile. "Try me. I might surprise you."

Regina hesitated only briefly. "Storybrooke, Maine."

Emma slowly blinked. "Storybrooke." She let the syllables roll over her tongue.

Regina sucked in a sharp breath. Did Emma remember? Had the name of the tiny coastal town jogged her memory?

Emma shook her head. "You're right. Never heard of it."

Regina released the breath she'd been holding. She couldn't name the emotion rumbling around in the pit of her stomach. Relief? Disappointment? Or maybe she was just hungry.

"So what about you? What's your story? Are you in the habit of inviting strangers into your home for dinner?" Regina asked, shaking off her confusing reaction.

"No." Emma ducked her head in an endearing way that reminded Regina of Henry. "But technically it's breakfast."

Regina licked her painted lips. "True."

"Table's ready," Henry announced.

"Everything smells delicious, Emma." Honestly when she'd heard 'breakfast for dinner,' she had been expecting Eggos and cold cereal.

"I've got a few skills." Emma shrugged, but she looked pleased by the compliment.

"You should try her apple turnover," Henry chimed in. "It's amazing."

The corner of Regina's painted smile twitched. "Apple turnover?" Her voice nearly cracked.

"It's kind of like a pop tart," Emma explained.

Regina wanted to snap that she knew what an apple turnover was, but like every other instinct she had around this version of Emma Swan, she swallowed it down and smiled weakly instead.

"It sounds delicious."

The tears started the moment Regina shut the door of her hotel room. She'd done admirably she thought, reigning in her emotions through dinner, the awkward goodbye as she put her coat on, wanting to hug Henry, but settling on a handshake instead, and through the long taxi ride from Emma's apartment back to her rented room.

Jacket and scarf still on, but now alone with her emotions, she could finally let the walls she'd built up crumble down.

She didn't have time for the tears streaming down her powdered cheeks to turn into body shaking sobs before her cell phone started to ring. Blind with grief, she wiped at her eyes so she could make out the number and who would be calling. But she already knew; only one person had this number.

"What do you want?" she barked into the phone.

She heard the sharp intake of air on the other line, and she instantly regretted losing her cool. Regina raked a shaky hand through her raven hair. "Hello, Snow."

"Regina, you have to come back."

"I'm not ready yet," she stubbornly protested.

Snow sighed into the phone. "I don't like it. You don't know what too much time outside of Storybrooke will do under this second curse."

Regina had been the only one who'd dared to cross the town line since she had been the only one from the Enchanted Forest not affected by the original curse. No one else had trusted what might happen if they crossed the line under the second curse.

"I'm being careful," Regina snapped, annoyance creeping into her tone.

"I don't care how careful you're being," Snow said, her voice rising to meet Regina's challenging tone. "The plan was to make sure they were okay and then come home."

"I know what the plan is-was-. But Emma has memories I didn't intend to give her."

"What?"

"At dinner tonight, Henry said-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Snow interrupted. "At dinner? We agreed you wouldn't talk to them. You're supposed to be observing from afar, Regina, not having dinner with them."

"Technically it was breakfast for dinner," Regina mumbled.

"You know what I mean!" Snow exclaimed. "Even though their memories have been altered, what you're doing is dangerous! You of all people know how unpredictable magic can be."

"Exactly. Which is why I need more time. The spell reacted in ways I didn't expect. I need to make sure that Henry will be okay."

"How is she?"

Regina shut her eyes. She could hear the trepidation in Snow's voice. "She's good. Really good."

"Really?" Snow's voice sounded damp.

Regina sighed deeply. "They both seem very happy. I think we did our children right for once, Snow. We gave them their best chance."

Regina could hear the tears over the phone line. "Thank you for that, Regina."

"I have to go," she said briskly, cutting the call short. She and Snow White weren't friends. They had too much history to ever be friends.

TBC