She'd almost made it out of the door, clothing in a bag over her shoulder, only to be foiled by the need to go back for her toothbrush. That detour meant she had to interact with her parents, who returned with the little guy while she stuffed her toothbrush into her bag. Cursing her luck, Emma sighed, straightened up and prepared to face them. They didn't need the whole story, not right now, but she'd have to explain that she was staying at Regina's.
Staying at Regina's.
Emma had been a nomad her whole life, bouncing around the system, being shuttled and passed off from family to group home to family and back until finally she let go of any hope of belonging. 'Home' became wherever she happened to be, more often than not the backseat of her stolen Bug or a crummy hotel. She had lived her life with one hand reaching for the door for so long it stilled her now to realize she wasn't thinking like this. She wasn't taking all her things yet but the ever-present 'when it ends...' wasn't ready and waiting in her mind. For the first time in years, Emma had no exit strategy.
There was a joke about U-Hauls, women and second dates in there somewhere, and probably a thousand warnings about moving too fast and making mistakes... but Emma's hands were sure and steady as they zipped up her bag. They hadn't talked about what had happened between them, or where they were going, but she knew she wouldn't be coming back to the overcrowded loft she'd shared with her parents and baby brother. She wasn't leaving Regina, not willingly. She belonged in her house, with her and Henry, with her son and his mother. That was...it was home now.
It should have been impossible, it probably should have scared her, but it didn't. It didn't even feel like she was doing something new. It felt instead as if Emma were merely correcting a mistake made long ago, one that had been lived with for so long it was ignored - like a tiny pebble in her shoe - until someone pointed it out. She and Regina belonged together because of Henry. Because of who they were to each other. Maybe even because of fate...although that was a question Emma still wasn't ready to deal with and her mind shied away from thoughts of 'destiny.' She still had some limits after all.
"Emma? Is that you? Where have you been?" her mother's voice called across the tiny loft, cutting through her thoughts and shaking her out of her daze.
"You left the station so quickly when Cruella arrived," her dad added. He held the little guy, bouncing him in his arms. He seemed happy, for the moment, in his sling on her dad's chest. "Everything okay?"
"Maleficent's been hurt," Emma replied, shifting her bag uneasily on her shoulder. She had been dreading this conversation. Her parents and Regina might have been civil to each other these days, but that relationship was and always would be a powder keg of history. More than that, Emma wasn't convinced her parents truly saw her as an adult capable of making her own choices and they had a tendency to try and make decisions on her behalf at the worst possible times.
She couldn't let that happen now.
Before...before she might have let them, might have accepted it as a sign, proof that her parents loved her and wanted her and wasn't that what she had searched for her whole life? But now, with the clarity she felt in the wake of the spell and her time with Regina she knew it couldn't remain this way. No matter what their intentions Emma couldn't just stop being the woman she'd been when she drove into Storybrooke, and that woman made her own choices, her own destiny.
Her parents' accepting she wasn't just their little girl anymore, however, was a conversation or six for another day. For now she concentrated on updating them on Maleficent. "She was badly hurt. She tried to cross the town line and being without magic really did a number on her. She stopped breathing and went through hypothermia and Regina and I had to use a dragon fire spell to bring her back, and she's back, but she's still really weak, so I'm going to go over and help so Regina doesn't have to look after Maleficent all by herself. I'll be back, soon, and I can tell you all about it, I just really need to go. Henry's going to Ruby's for a couple nights, and he's been doing his homework in the library lately, so he should be fine." It came out in sort of a rush but Emma hoped her parents would think it was just stress of the situation. Which, in a way, it was.
See? Not even a lie.
Not waiting for a response, Emma stepped close, half hugging her mom before she headed for the door. "I'll call you guys tomorrow, when I can, okay?"
"Emma-" Her mom began, catching her arm. "Are you sure it's not some kind of trick? Maleficent's incredibly powerful-"
Emma resisted the urge to sigh. Persistence was a family trait that popped up at the most inconvenient times.
"I felt her pulse stop," she said, giving her parents a hard look and struggling to keep her voice even. Emma could still remember with vivid clarity the possessiveness she'd felt over Maleficent, the way her skin had felt against Emma's, too cold but still so soft. She could remember the weight of Maleficent's body against hers and the dry, almost smoky scent that lingered in Emma's nostrils, stirring something deep in Emma's chest that had been fanned by the dragon fire spell. Even now, with the magic faded, she itched to be back in the mansion, to see for herself that Maleficent was still alive and breathing and healing. It was more than just the natural urge of someone giving a damn about another person. She was tied to Maleficent now, even if only by a single tiny, almost invisible thread, Emma knew she could never sever that bond, and she didn't want to.
Her parents, however, didn't need to know any of this, especially while she was still trying to make sense of it all. For her parents, the facts would have to be enough. "Trying to leave town drained her magic enough that she almost died without it," Emma insisted. She looked from her mother to her father and he seemed to get it more than she did. "I know she was a villain, and I haven't read all that she did, but she hasn't even tried to get revenge on me, and I killed her. She's sick now, weak enough that she can't even hold her head up on her own. She's really not someone you need to worry about. Trust me. She needs my help right now. So does Regina."
Snow hesitated, her eyes searching Emma's face. Her expression had that particular stubborn look, the one Emma knew was usually prelude to a very strong objection and she braced herself to end the conversation and leave but for a wonder, Snow's jaw worked and she kept her mouth shut. Instead her mother nodded, slowly. Her reluctance made her position clear, however. She didn't trust Maleficent, and there was probably some long story that Emma would have to hear later about her, whether she wanted to or not. Maybe she really should ask Henry to summarise the book for her, or perhaps she should just ask Regina. There might be clues about her parents' relationship with Maleficent that might help her figure out what they were worried about. If it was just standard fear of someone who could turn into a dragon, well...maybe they never needed to hear the full details of how much she now understood a lot more about dragons. If it was something else...Emma didn't even want to consider that right now. Even though that cynical voice in the back of her head said nothing was ever simple or easy in this town.
At the moment, though, Emma was just grateful she wasn't going to have to argue her way past her parents to get back to where she was needed. To where she needed to be.
"I'll be back in a couple days, okay? We can have lunch or something when Maleficent's doing better," she offered. Her parents didn't argue or try to stop her. Instead they looked at each other, sharing that weird look. They'd been doing a lot lately and while before Emma had been able to ignore it, now it set Emma's instincts screaming.
Something was wrong.
Ever since Ursula and Cruella arrived, her mother and father had been acting strangely, evasive and on edge, and acting out of character for no reason Emma could discern. Her parents wouldn't lie to her, Emma had believed that, and she'd clung to that belief even as a cold sliver of doubt grew in her mind with each time her parents shared that look.
Now, in the aftermath of the spell with her memories of Maleficent and Regina so fresh and the fire so close, that belief was crumbling, charring like paper; the picture of her family as perfect smoked and blackened around the edges, like a photograph tossed onto a fire. What it would reveal underneath, Emma wasn't sure she was ready to discover. Standing in the loft with her bag on her shoulder and her feet aching to be moving, to be walking toward the mansion, Emma was suddenly torn, the revelation somehow more frustrating than surprising.
Her parents were hiding something from her about Maleficent and Emma suddenly realize she could smell it on them. They smelled not of family, but of 'other', of lies and deceit. It wasn't a physical smell, a part of Emma knew this, recognised it as the remnants of the spell enhancing her own magic and senses, but the result was the same. In a moment of brutal honesty, Emma admitted to herself she had been ignoring the feeling of 'wrongness' ever since Maleficent had returned from the dead. Maybe she hadn't really understood it, or she just hadn't wanted to, but it was there, and no longer possible to ignore. Something was between them that wasn't all right, and she wanted to leave, to get away, not just back to Regina, but away from them. In that moment, Emma wanted Regina. It wasn't just that Regina was her mate now, something was wrong with her parents and Regina had - even when they were fighting - always been the one person Emma could count on to make sense. She desperately needed the feeling of surety now, the way Regina could ground her when it felt like the world was off balance.
If she stayed, she was going to do something they all would regret.
Edging past her parents, she moved toward the door. "I'm fine, really. I just can't leave Regina alone with her. She might need my help if we need to do more magic. We've already had to mend her ribs once, and Granny thinks she might break them again if she doesn't stop coughing, and I don't know about you guys, but broken ribs really hurt, and Regina and I, we're really good at fixing things together-" Emma knew she was babbling, and she didn't care, because she trusted the sound of her own voice in a way she couldn't trust her parents. The knowledge that the people she'd wanted to find for so long were deceiving her had set her world spinning off its axis just enough that the floor felt uneven, her footsteps unsure. They wouldn't lie to her, she'd believed that all the way down to the ends of her toes, but everything about the way they stood, the way they kept looking at each other instead of looking Emma in the eyes: it was all wrong.
"Remember to take care of yourselves too," her dad said. He reached out, pulling her to him and cradling the back of her head, the way he always did, and Emma finally smiled because that was real. Whatever else was going on, her parents still cared, and was left of the dragon inside of her had no doubts that her father loved her. It wasn't enough. Not even close, but Emma clung to it for a moment, accepting the embrace for just an instant before pulling away, trying to offer a smile in thanks. "It's a lot to take care of someone who's as sick as you say. Make sure you eat, and sleep, and if you need anything-"
"-Call us," her mother finished, "call us right away, all right?"
She was saved from having to say anything further as Little Guy started to fuss, because her dad had stopped swaying back and forth to look at her and Emma used the distraction of him as an excuse to back away. She'd meant to walk, because Regina's wasn't far. She took a step, thinking of being back with Regina, in her house, and she teleported, without even trying to. Emma heard the beginning of both her parents gasping and then sighed as she rematerialised in Regina's kitchen, all the tension sliding off her shoulders at the familiar sight and smell of being where she was needed, where she belonged.
Someday soon she'd have to explain that she'd taken magical advice from the dragon her parents were so worried about, but she was going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with them first. In the meantime, they would just have to accept that she could teleport, and that was really convenient, especially with the Bug still being repaired, because it was a lot harder to get a new windscreen for an old Volkswagen in a magical town in the middle of nowhere.
If only it were really that simple.
Even though Regina's kitchen smelt of the strange combination of spaghetti and brimstone from the spell, Emma relaxed as soon as the pale smoke that surrounded her faded. She was safe here, and immediately comfortable, because this was home now. She hadn't even let herself contemplate that as a conscious thought, but here she was, standing in Regina's house, more at ease than she'd been with her parents.
"Welcome back, darling," Cruella said from the stove. She peered over Ursula's shoulder, watching what smelt like dinner come together. "Your teleporting has improved."
"Yeah?" Emma asked, wondering if this was going to lead to some terrible backhanded compliment.
"You look much less nervous when you appear," Ursula explained, grabbing some peppers from the fridge with a tentacle while Emma tried not to shudder. Tentacles in the kitchen was going to to take a lot of getting used to. "You're not wondering where your body parts are, that's progress."
"Uh, thanks," Emma said, shifting the weight of her bag and wincing because that was probably true. "Is Regina still upstairs?"
"Won't leave Mal alone for a minute," Cruella said, leaning over the cutting board and stealing a piece of pepper as Ursula chopped it up. "It's probably for the best. The Wolf's gone to check Gold's old shop to see if there's anything of Mal's in there that could help. She'll be back for dinner."
"Kept threatening to make calamari," Ursula said with a shiver of revulsion. "That's not even funny."
Cruella chuckled, rubbing her hand along Ursula's back in a soothing motion. "Calm down, darling. I thought it was a little funny. Dinner's in what, twenty minutes?"
"Thereabouts," Ursula answered. Using her tentacles to cook apparently left her hands free for wine, and she and Cruella were already through most of a bottle of red. Emma wasn't going to ask how being intoxicated was going to help Maleficent heal, but Cruella and Ursula seemed to be the types who could hold their liquor, so Emma left them to it. Whatever they were making smelt pretty good, so perhaps the villains could cook.
As Emma turned to leave the kitchen it briefly crossed her mind that Ursula and Cruella deVil were cooking dinner in the Evil Queen's kitchen and the only thing that remotely phased her was what might happen if they drank all of Regina's good wine.
Somedays, her life was a real fucking trip.
It was hers though, bought and paid for with so much pain and uncertainty, and now that there was a chance she could finally hold on to it…
Emma wasn't letting go.
Trying to be at least a little quiet, she took off her boots and dropped them by the front door, then turned to head upstairs. It happened when her foot lifted automatically to avoid the squeaky stair that was third from the top before the landing. Emma stopped, almost swaying as she realised she could feel Regina. Her magic, her presence...something, Emma wasn't quite sure what it was, but she could sense the other woman near, as if she was just right next to Emma, only barely out of sight. It was more than just proximity, it was the entire house, the reason she'd felt such relief as soon as she appeared in the kitchen. Regina's magic infused the very walls of the house, warmth like distant laughter welcoming her like open arms.
A sound from the kitchen, the clatter of silverware perhaps, jerked Emma from her reverie and she sucked in a deep breath, head spinning and vision going grey for a moment. Leaning against the railing she closed her eyes and let the magic inside her off its leash. It was like a key turning in a lock. The last of her earlier turmoil over her parents vanished. At last, Emma Swan was well and truly home.
And Regina was close by.
Quickly, Emma ascended the last of the stairs and dropped her bag outside Regina's room. She knew she could go in, that she would be welcome, but she refrained. She belonged here, but she and Regina still needed to talk. So much had changed in the last 24 hours and she wasn't going to enter Regina's sanctum without an invitation. It might have been purely symbolic that she waited but Emma had recently had a very impressive lesson in the importance of symbols. She also understood Regina in a way that went beyond words now. She'd always been able to read the other woman but now Emma had felt her, not just her touch but her heart, her mind, and her magic. For those burning hours they had almost been one person and it was a gift Emma swore, if only to herself, she would do her best not to destroy. Sharing dragon fire and the results might have been an...unorthodox push forward in a relationship they both wanted, but Emma knew the shape of a few scars on Regina's soul now, and she was going to make sure that this time, Regina got to call the shots.
If that meant waiting for permission to be in her room, then Emma figured that was a small price to pay.
Besides, Regina wouldn't be in her room yet, she was still in the guest room, unable to leave Maleficent alone in her weakened state.
As if summoned by her thoughts. Emma felt the faint echoes of the dragon stir in her chest, an urge that was at once her own and a memory making her turn on quick feet to walk down the hall to where her...to where Regina and Maleficent were.
The light was weak inside, because Regina only left on a lamp, not the overhead light. The chair was still pulled close to the bed, but Regina wasn't in it. The big mixing bowl sat next to the bed and it had been cleaned, but Emma could still sense the strength of the dark curse within it, like the metal had been corroded just under the surface. That kind of magic wasn't something that just washed off, even when it went through the dishwasher.
Maleficent remained propped up on a lot of pillows, her eyes shut, long blonde hair spread messily on the pillowcase around her face. Her breathing was slow and still laboured but as far as Emma could tell she'd hadn't gotten worse, though she had no way to be sure. The echo in Emma's chest faded farther away, the knot in her stomach loosening at seeing for herself Maleficent was still breathing. Walking closer, she pressed the back of her hand ever so carefully against Maleficent's forehead, finding her skin cool but much warmer than it had been earlier. Satisfied, Emma turned her attention to the other occupant of the bed.
Regina lay next to Maleficent, fast asleep, curled on her side with her hands under her head. Judging by the forgotten mug of coffee on the nightstand, Regina had tried to stay awake but lost out to her own exhaustion. She looked smaller like this, younger and softer, stripped of the defences she presented to the world. Emma circled the bed, watching Regina sleep. She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes weren't going to disappear overnight. She'd been upset and on edge for days and given much of herself to bring Maleficent back, and it made something in Emma ache, the way it always did when presented with the evidence of just how much Regina cared for the people in her life.
Unwilling to deprive Regina whatever rest she could get, Emma left her to sleep, merely taking one of the spare blankets from the foot of the bed and tucking it up over the sleeping woman as gently as she could. She wanted to stay, to be close, to wrap herself around Regina and nuzzle the soft skin she knew she would find where the collar of her shirt bunched, but that would wake Regina up and so Emma bit the inside of her lip and turned away. Sitting down in the chair beside the bed, she settled in to keep an eye on both of them, telling herself this was enough. They were safe; she was here. It would be all right. Henry was at school, protected and...her family was here, asleep. In the hushed silence of the house, Emma let that word turn over in her mind.
It came so easily, and looking at Regina sleep it felt right. But family should have meant Snow and Charming….right? It should have meant her parents, her brother. Yet no matter how she thought about it, something felt off and Emma couldn't stop thinking about her parents lying to her. Was the discordant note just anger at them? At herself for defying her own instincts that had kept her alive, that she'd pushed aside because children were supposed to trust their parents right?
Regina sighed in her sleep, a hand creeping out from the blanket to rest on Mal's forearm and the rush of tenderness in Emma's chest was her answer.
This was family. Regina and Henry and even in some weird way, Maleficent. This was home, as strange and ridiculous as it might seem, this place with a dragon, a sorceress and a broken door just waiting for their son to come home from school.
Her parents...Emma knew she loved them, recognized it even as the anger curled inside her, tightening her muscles until she forced herself to breathe it away. She would, in time, forgive them for this too. But not until she had the answers to her questions. Why had they lied? What didn't they want her to know? What had happened that was so horrible that they couldn't tell her? She'd forgiven Regina for all the darkness in her past, why wouldn't her parents trust that she would forgive them?
She didn't know how long she sat there, mind turning in useless circles, but it was long enough that Maleficent's voice made her jump, yanking her back to the present.
"You should take her to bed," Maleficent said, her voice still raspy and low. "She'll sleep better there." She managed to finish before another coughing fit took her and Emma was out of the chair in an instant, moving to her side. Thankfully, the bout didn't last long and Maleficent was already sinking back into the pillows by the time Emma had picked up the glass of water with a straw in it from the bedside table and held it up so Maleficent could take a sip. She hadn't been trusted to take care of anyone since a few of her foster homes had left her in charge of the younger kids, who were often sick because those foster homes hadn't been good, and she caught herself reaching to hold Maleficent's chin while she drank. Touching her skin, feeling the warmth of her, Emma fought the surge of emotions and the stubborn sense of possession she knew didn't wholly belong to her.
With Regina it had been simple, the magic in the dragon fire just amplifying feelings that already existed, that had been building for years. With Maleficent it was harder to know where the line was between her own need to help someone in pain, and the echo of magic that now tied her to Maleficent, however weakly.
Maleficent shut her eyes again, and to Emma's surprise, leaned in to her touch. It felt...good. Simple. Right. She needed to be protected, and Emma would keep her safe. She could do this, help someone, ease their suffering. It wasn't about a title or destiny, just simple human touch. Emma let out a breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding, shifting closer to Maleficent as she set the water glass back down.
"She cares about you," Emma said. "You scared her." Without thinking, she reached up to catch a drop of water on Maleficent's chin. The look she got in return was gentle.
"Never meant to," Mal murmured, glancing away. "I forgot what it's like to be weak, and tired. Never felt tired when I was the dragon in that cave, for years, most of your life, I waited, and I slept, but I was never tired." The tip of her tongue ran over her dry lips and she smiled at Emma with the kind of weariness that seemed to have crawled up from the depths of her soul. "Now, tired seems to be all that I am."
Emma's instincts kept pushing her to touch and Maleficent seemed to take comfort from it, so Emma reached out and brushed back Maleficent's blonde hair from her face, almost surprised that it was so soft. "You're getting better. You just managed to cough without breaking anything," she said wryly, stroking her fingers through the fine hair at Maleficent's temple. The other woman sighed softly in what sounded like gratitude.
"I see why she likes you, you're like she was," Maleficent said, flicking her eyes towards Regina still asleep at her side.
A part of Emma hesitated, wondered at her place to ask the questions crowding her tongue. Regina's story was hers and hers alone and yet Maleficent was a huge part of that story, one Emma hadn't truly known about until recently. It was very obvious that Maleficent had held an important place in Regina's heart, still did, and Emma wanted to know, to understand. She was bound to them both now, albeit in completely different ways.
"What was she like?" She finally asked, her fingers stilling their path through Maleficent's hair and dropping to rest on the other woman's blanket-covered leg, not quite able to forgo some form of contact.
"Obnoxiously optimistic," she answered, obvious fondness filling the words.
"Regina?"
"Once, she was as annoying as you."
Emma's eyebrow rose as she tried to imagine that. Maleficent had known Regina at a time in her life that Emma knew very little about and, if she had to guess, neither did anyone else. She'd never heard about the early years of Regina's time as Queen, not from her mother, or Henry, or the book, or anyone else who knew her, before. She always heard about the Evil Queen, the tyrant, the killer; and sometimes, Regina as a very young woman when she'd first met Snow, but nothing in between.
Sometimes, Emma thought she saw her, that younger Regina. It was there in glimpses when she felt safe, or she was looking at Henry. There was an innocence, a hopefulness to Regina's face, like watching the sun come out from behind a cloud and chase the shadows of her life away. It happened very, very rarely but it was breathtaking to behold and Emma could admit, if only to herself, that she'd been addicted to those little moments well before she decided to set herself on fire.
She loved that side of Regina, just as she loved the imposing mayor, and the unstoppable force that had been a queen. Emma loved all of her, even what she hadn't yet seen.
She still had a very hard time imagining a Regina who was anything like her except in the ways they had both been marked, shaped and scarred by life. The way they saw the world in shades of grey, the way they fought for what was theirs, the anger and instinct to lash out instead of being vulnerable, their love for their son, these were things that Emma had long known she shared with Regina. It was something to consider there was even more.
It was clear from her tone and the softness around her eyes that Maleficent had loved Regina then and loved her still.
"She's not as young as I was," Regina spoke softly, surprising Emma and Maleficent both. She sat up, something fond in her expression. "Emma, you are wise in a way I never was, especially not the memory of me that Mal keeps so fondly." Shifting, passed a hand over her face, then frowned, sniffing the air and taking in the scents drifting up from the kitchen. "Seems they're not afraid of using my spices," she sighed.
"They can be kind," Mal whispered, reaching for Regina with clumsy fingers. "They're not the best at showing it, and their cooking leaves much to be desired, but they are caring."
The momentary flash of ire melted off Regina's face instantly and she took Maleficent's hand, holding it tight and pulling their fingers in towards her chest. "I know." Her attention was wholly on Maleficent now and Regina edged closer, her other hand pressing to Mal's forehead as a frown pulled at her brows. It was such a simple, easy gesture, one that Regina had made dozens of times already and Emma herself had echoed when she'd first walked into the room, but it made heat flare, hot and bright in Emma's chest as they drew closer. It was drinking the fire all over again, so strong was the instinct that rose up from somewhere deep in her mind. What she initially took for jealousy was instead something more, something better she realised. Both of them were hers to protect, to keep safe, to coil around and shield from the darkness. Her strength would keep them safe, because Emma would keep both of them close, near to her. It should have felt alien, this ancient desire, but it rose within her, promising that no one and nothing would take what was hers, and Emma had no idea how to fight it. She didn't want to.
She wanted to enfold them both, keep them safe beneath her wings. She didn't have wings to cover them with, she'd never had wings, but she remembered the sensation of pulling those she loved beneath great pinions, remembered keeping them close to her massive body to shield them from any harm. For a moment the bedroom faded from view as Emma turned inward, the surge of feelings impossible to distinguish from her own. She wanted but she didn't understand and for a moment she floundered, adrift in magic that was too powerful and her own emotions amplified. Her body quivered, muscles straining to move her, to cross the space and touch Regina, hold her safe and feel her body against Emma's own. She thought she shouldn't do that but she couldn't remember why...
"Emma, come," Maleficent's voice, dry and sure and steady. It was soft, still weak, but there was knowledge, understanding in those words. It cut through Emma's confusion, pulled her back to where she sat on the bed in Regina's guest room, Regina and Maleficent watching her. Maleficent's voice might have been soft but she made it a command anyway. Tilting her head towards Regina, she sighed and shut her eyes. "Hold her, it'll be easier."
Emma didn't have to be told twice, moving as if propelled and Maleficent nodded when Emma sat on the bed beside Regina. When she hesitated though, it was Regina who seemed to understand, holding out her hand. "It's all right Emma," Regina promised, and at the soft, first tentative touch on her back Regina shifted closer, leaning into Emma. It was the permission Emma needed and she curled against the smaller woman, wrapping her arms around Regina's waist and half-guiding her into Emma's lap, resting her forehead against Regina's temple.
A distant part of Emma knew this should have been freaking her out. It was too much too soon. She had spent a lifetime learning to keep her distance and in the last decade only Henry had been able to breach her defenses, walking right through them and into her heart and yet...this felt so right. Her pulse slowed as she breathed Regina in, felt the way she relaxed into Emma's hold. Emma could actually feel the tension leaving Regina as well, both their hearts calming in tandem. For the first time in a long time, Emma felt grounded, as if there were no place else she needed to be, beyond right here. Regina was here, and hers, and she was Regina's.
Regina's breath shuddered in her chest, and she leant into Emma, relaxing in her arms. They belonged here, touching as much as they could.
Maleficent who had been watching them both closely with narrowed eyes seemed to relax, then nodded again, as if pleased. "I don't know many humans who have survived dragon fire. It may not be possible to go through the flames and emerge unchanged, especially after you've shared it. At least you'll be together with the consequences."
Regina smirked, but it was a softer expression than normal. Emma guessed it was because she could also hear the relief beneath Maleficent's usual nonchalance. She had been worried about both of them, not just Regina and Emma didn't fight the feeling of gratitude. Maybe she was just raw from the tension with her parents, or maybe it was simply the force of Mal's personality, even weakened, but there was something to be said for realizing an ancient, powerful magical being gave a crap whether you lived or died.
Emma had had few enough of that care in her life, she wasn't above accepting it from unexpected places now, and whatever else Maleficent was, she was no threat to her, Regina or Henry.
"It would have been a mess otherwise," Regina replied, her words warmly teasing. "You starting to decompose, Emma and I burnt to a crisp and the Sea Bitch and the Dognapper taking over the town."
Maleficent's smile was barely a real movement of her lips, but Emma sensed it as if it was bright. She felt it, even though her eyes insisted that little had changed. She also shared Regina's concern and the warmth of her desire to protect, which was softer than Emma's, more restrained.
"Yes well, I suppose I should thank you for not letting me expire," Maleficent looked down, picking at an imaginary thread.
The response was immediate, easy and instinctual. Emma and Regina reached out as one, resting their hands on Maleficent's arm. None of them said anything, they didn't have to. Sometimes, there was nothing to be said. Silently, Emma promised herself she would find Maleficent and Regina's child. They needed her back, both of them, and Emma could do that. She could help another family find each other.
The silence in the room was comforting, but thick, and finally Mal shifted, swallowing. Her tone was soft when she spoke, though. "You two should eat. It'll be best while it's fresh. And you know how those two get when someone doesn't appreciate their efforts."
The soft sound of amusement Regina made suggested there was a story there, but Emma didn't ask. Instead, she pushed away the urge to touch Maleficent again, to smooth her hair or stroke her cheek. The intimacy might have been hers, Maleficent's skin seemed as familiar as her own in her memory, but she still had her pride and while the dragon in Emma wanted to touch and protect, the orphan and self-made woman knew when to hold back. Maleficent needed care, not coddling or pity.
With one last gentle kiss of Regina's temple, Emma moved off the bed and stood, heading towards the door. She paused, waiting for Regina, who did hold Maleficent's cheek for a moment, before she left. She appeared relieved by the warmth she found there, and she straightened the blankets before she met Emma in the doorway.
Ursula passed them on her way up the stairs, carrying her own heaped bowl of pasta and something in a steaming mug that must have been for Maleficent. One of her eyebrows rose as she caught the way Emma's hand rested on Regina's back, but she said nothing. Emma couldn't help wondering what her parents would say, if they saw the same gesture.