VIII: I Wanna Dance With You

A/N: Now that Hallowe'en is over and done and I'm no longer spending my free time sewing, I should hopefully be able to write more often. My continued gratitude to all my lovely reviewers, favoriters, and followers! I'm so pleased at the reception this story has gotten, even with my sad lack of regular updates.

Much thanks, as always, to killer-elephants for keeping me from embarrassing myself.

Enjoy!

~M

For the first time since Emma had been brought to Storybrooke, it was not her screams that resounded through the house while they slept.

She lurched up in her bed, the tail end of a scream still resounding through the house. Without second thought, she threw off the blanket and was out her bedroom door a second later, up the stairs and hovering outside of Henry's door. She cracked it open and peered within. Henry hadn't even stirred. Regina hadn't been lying, when she'd said he slept like the dead.

Another scream pierced the silence, and Emma's head snapped up in its direction. The door to Henry's room swung closed on its own as soon as her hand left its frame, and by the time it shut completely she was already down the hall outside the room of her son's adopted mother. The door was closed. Emma paused with only a tiny twinge of hesitation, and then knocked. "Regina? Are you alright?" It was a ridiculous question, on many accounts. Nothing was remotely okay. But Emma had had an exhausting night, physically and mentally, and her sleep had just been rudely, frighteningly interrupted. She felt she deserved a bit of leeway.

Regina, evidently, did not. "Of course I'm not alright!" she growled through the door. "I've lost friends and progeny tonight, and I don't even begin to understand why! Do you?!" Her voice sounded ragged, the final demand higher-pitched than everything else. As if she'd been crying.

"Sorry." Swallowing, Emma stared, sheepishly, at the closed door. "I'll... I'll leave you alone, then." It only occurred to her now, after rushing up, that perhaps Regina simply had her own demons to work through as she slept. She didn't dare ask what they were; Regina had heard her screaming in her sleep dozens of times, and never asked why, just woke her up with a soft touch and a hot drink. She didn't really feel like she needed to ask, anyway.

"Wait."

For a second, she almost believed she'd imagined it, the quiet, halting sound of Regina's voice through the door. But the door opened to reveal the mayor clad in a thin robe, hair tousled, (though finally clean, after she and Emma both had used all the hot water in the house for their respective showers) and looking almost... fearful.

Clearing her throat, Regina wrapped her arms tightly around her middle as if she actually felt the chill in the air, and tilted her head. "If... sleep for either of us is a pipe dream at the moment... you may as well come in." She began to walk back into her room, but paused, adding almost as an afterthought: "...Please."

It was the first time Regina and bothered with the pleasantry, and Emma found herself obeying and not minding in the least. She entered quietly, and the door closed behind her with a wave of Regina's hand. Emma availed herself of the opportunity to look around. She was not ordinarily allowed to go into this room, and apart from the previous evening while the Queen had been busily blurring through after yelling at Sidney, she'd never gotten much of a chance to see it. It was very simple, for Regina. After seeing her mayoral office, anyone would think the woman was all about monochromatics and clean lines. But while the bedroom certainly had a great deal of white, it also seemed much more ...comfortable than any other room she'd seen of Regina's. Emma sat down in a large white armchair, settling into the cushions comfortably. Regina set herself lightly on a chaise by the heavily shuttered windows, no light from the midday sun getting through at all. Emma paused to wonder if she ever opened them, just because she could. And then shook her head. She must really be tired if she was worrying about things like that now.

Regina glanced at the closed door, and then at her... guest. "Henry?" she asked, because it was impossible to believe that Emma had checked on her without first looking in on their son.

"Still asleep."

The mayor nodded, and looked as though a weight had been lifted. Emma understood. The town had gone to hell for a while, and they had lost people they cared for, but their son was okay. That mattered for something. They sat there for a long while, a silence growing between them. It should have been ridiculously awkward, but it wasn't. Hell, the whole circumstance was ridiculous, and yet this odd... family they'd both been forced into had somehow grown comfortable. Comfortable enough that when something happened to threaten it, they'd both reacted strongly indeed.

It was Regina who finally spoke, words falling out in a quiet hush over the stillness: "I didn't mean to wake you."

Emma blinked at the broken silence, then shook her head a bit and laughed. "I think I owed you at least one." She saw the slight smile spread across the Queen's lips, and the Hunter sighed, sobering just a little. "I... wasn't sleeping well either." Her eyes flicked over the mussed hair, the rumpled sleeping clothes of the usually impeccable woman, and then looked back at the door with another smile, thinking of their son. "It makes you envy him, doesn't it? He... never screams in his sleep."

"He has no need to," Regina replied quietly. "And hopefully never will." The silence returned, and Regina gave a small sigh, arms still wrapped around her midsection. She looked at the blocked windows, staring as if she could see past the wood and curtains. Or as if she couldn't bear to meet Emma's eyes when she barely breathed out: "...Thank you."

Startled, Emma snapped her head back, eyes arrowing in confusion. "What for?"

The answer was slow in coming, as if the ever-polished mayor actually had to search for her words. "My memory of what happened after-" she paused, and turned her head just a little to actually look at the blonde, "-after attempting to turn Kathryn is ...a bit hazy. I know I was in your arms, I know I desperately needed blood and I know at some point my teeth were in the general vicinity of your neck." Another pause, and her gaze lowered to the neck in question, obviously unbitten. She glanced back to Emma's face, completely earnest in what she was saying. "...Thank you for not allowing me to bite you."

Emma's mouth dropped open. Of all the things Regina could have said, that had never occurred to her. "Um... you're welcome. I guess?" The silence, this time, was awkward again, the peace having departed. Emma let out a slow, ragged breath, and turned herself more fully toward the mayor. "Look, I-" she sighed, frustrated and tired and worn out, and tried again. "Not that I'm complaining... but why are you so relieved about it?"

"...I haven't drank directly from the source in... a very long time, Miss Swan. And I don't intend to start soon."

"Again, not objecting, but why?"

Regina's hands finally left her middle, moving through the air as if to help get her thoughts across while she attempted to explain. "...This might be hard for someone like you to understand, but drinking from someone is a very beautiful thing, Miss Swan. And when given willingly... it's incredibly intimate, for the human as well as the vampire. This person is trusting you with their life, and giving you a part of their own. In return, you grant them peace and serenity and pleasure beyond … well, beyond words, really. When done properly it can be far more gratifying than any other form of intimacy."

"You're saying drinking blood is better than sex?" Emma tried her best not to snort derisively at the idea. "Say whatever you want about intimacy, but I find it hard to believe there's actual pleasure in being savaged, drained, and left bleeding out all over the ground."

Regina shook her head and frowned. "...It isn't like that. Not for all of us."

Emma raised a brow. "What makes you so different?" She'd tried to ask similar questions before: why Regina and the vampires in Storybrooke were so much better than any others. She'd never gotten a good answer, only that there most certainly was a difference. But Emma was tired and sore and still upset over losing her friends. She had no patience for dancing around the questions any longer. And since Regina seemed to approve of talking to her while they both couldn't sleep... "The vamps that attacked us are like every other vampire I've ever seen; everywhere else they're just bloodsucking monsters, and they certainly didn't seem to care about intimacy or anyone's pleasure but their own! So why aren't you like them?" She was angry, but not really at Regina. She was angry that they'd been attacked, angry that she'd lost friends. And angry that she hadn't been able to stop it.

She wasn't the only one. The scar on Regina's lip rose up in a snarl, her eyes growing fierce. "Those are not vampires! They are shadows- poor imitations!" she spat, rising from the chaise with purpose and danger in her gaze. "You call them monsters, and that is precisely what they are. They have no sense of community, no better judgment! They are weak, useless, nearly mindless; driven only by their own lusts and desires and Queens not fit to control them! Turned and let loose to wreak havoc upon the world and they are taught nothing!"

Emma blinked, raising an eyebrow. Her exhaustion won out over her logic, and she couldn't help but almost tease: "You don't feel strongly about this at all, do you?"

Regina shot her a glare full of steel. Her anger almost would have been frightening, had Emma not looked close enough to see the tears building in the corners of Regina's eyes. The Queen ignored the comment. "If the vampires that attacked us are anything like the rest of them currently controlling the world..." She looked at Emma with what almost looked like concern, as if asking for confirmation.

Sobered by the sight of the other woman actually near tears, Emma resolutely nodded her head. "They are."

"Then they seem almost manufactured. They're Turned far too quickly and killed far too easily. The fact that they are not taught means that they were never meant to live long- designed only to drain and to kill. And that is not how things should be, Miss Swan, and it certainly isn't sustainable." She ran a hand through her hair, wiping at the building tears with a quick flick of her wrist. "And what concerns me is that ...whoever Turned them- whatever Queen controls them... has to know that."

"Wait," the Hunter breathed, staring at Regina with wide eyes as she fully digested the ramifications of what the other woman was implying. "You think the state of the world- the vampires who run around killing and eating anyone they find- you think that's all because of one Queen?"

Regina suddenly seemed to find the floor exceedingly interesting. "... I don't know," she murmured, and Emma got the distinct impression that she wasn't being truthful. "But if it is," Regina continued, a little louder, "then that Queen must be even older than I am. And as a place outside of that chaos and death they seem intent on creating, Storybrooke would be a threat to whatever the ultimate goal is."

"Which is why the rogues came here."

"Possibly. But not many people- vampire or otherwise- even know Storybrooke exists, and our location is rather closely guarded by those who do."

Taking a moment to consider, Emma sunk back into her chair, sighing deeply. She rubbed at her brow, too tired to really be having this conversation, but knowing that sleep really was impossible for both of them by this point. She almost asked if Regina would want any coffee, and then remembered with a jolt exactly how ludicrous that idea was. She rubbed her brow a little harder, trying to force her brain to work. "So how many other Queens know Storybrooke exists?"

An almost frightened look flashed over the face of the other woman. Regina looked away hurriedly, as if trying to prevent Emma from seeing that fear. "I... only know of two," she admitted in a quiet, small voice. "And only one knows the actual location. He used to live here, actually."

"'He'?" the Hunter echoed. "Wait, so not all Queens are female?"

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Regina actually almost smiled. "No, of course not."

"...Right. So this... male Queen. Where is he?"

"I don't know. He and I had vastly different approaches, and he had several... ideas... that I did not agree with. Vehemently. He left town frequently on what he called 'business trips'." Pausing, Regina turned her head towards the door to the hallway, almost as if she could look right through the walls into Henry's room. "And after the last one, he never came back."

Emma's fingers laced together. The rather obvious look at Henry's room had been noted. A sinking, queasy feeling began to build in her stomach, and she clenched her fingers tightly together. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "Did... does he have a name?"

A long pause before the Queen finally sighed and leaned back against the chaise, arm draped over the side. "His name is Mr. Gold." Regina's eyes traveled down the Hunter's face, coming to rest with intent over the scar on the blonde's neck. She glanced back up into green eyes going wide with understanding. "...And I believe you've met."

Emma's stomach lurched with the memory, quickly replaced by a slow building anger, rising within her until she snarled. Her hand unconsciously rose to her neck, pressing against the scar there. "He... he's the one who-?"

"He was the vampire obsessed with creating more Sunwalkers, yes. And he brought me our son."

She could barely believe how casual the other woman was making it sound. "That's it?! He just 'brought' you Henry. Never mind the fact that he attacked me, bit me and left me to die in a stinking alley after inducing labor and stealing my child! Never mind that he apparently did everything you hate about the rogue vampires and was still allowed to live in your precious town! And you... you knew he was doing it and you let it happen?!"

The brunette turned away, sitting up straight again. She shook her head. "It wasn't like that..."

"No?" The Hunter felt her rage boiling within her, threatening to spill over, and she saw no reason not to let it. She got out of her chair, looking down at the Queen and sneering. "Because it sure as hell seems like it to me! Hell, Regina! You could have at least tried to stop him once you found out!"

"I did!" she snarled, likewise rising to her feet. As if no one was permitted to look down on her, and certainly not in her own home. "But there was nothing I could do!"

Emma wasn't buying it. She lunged forward, her fingers twisting into the satin of the other woman's robe and getting directly into her face. With no wall to press her into, she merely tightened her hold. "You're the Queen! You could have just kicked him out of your damn town or commanded your vampires to kill him or hell, I don't know, done something!"

"I couldn't!" Regina insisted, but made no move to defend herself from Emma's hands.

"Why not?!"

"He was my Queen!" Regina shouted.

Angry hands fell away instantly. The fury vanished, replaced by eyes wide as saucers and a dropped mouth. Emma stepped away as she understood, her face falling. "He Turned you." It wasn't a question; merely a barely murmured realization.

The defensiveness that had risen within the Queen fell away now that Emma was no longer threatening her. Regina smoothed the wrinkles out of her robe and then sighed. "He bit my mother just as he did you, took me from her just as he took Henry. And to my knowledge, we are the only two successes from his attempts to make Sunwalkers."

As the anger fled, there was no longer anything to prevent Emma's mind from allowing a flash of memory to burn its way to the forefront of her thoughts. The same vivid detail that haunted her dreams lurched into her mind's eye, and the Hunter reeled from it. Skin that glittered greyish gold flashed at her, illuminated by the dull glow of neon. A high pitched giggle echoed over deserted streets as she ran into the alley. The dark parting of lips just before fangs buried themselves in her throat and sent her own blood dripping down her pain-wracked body. She shuddered, lurching forward to brace her hands on her knees. Through the haze, she almost thought she heard Regina cry out or shuffle forward as if concerned. But the memories finally passed, forced to the back of her mind as another took its place. Again, she was covered in blood, but it was not no longer her own. A feeling of righteousness spread through her form and Emma righted herself. She smirked as if at some private joke, looking up to meet dark eyes beneath a furrowed brow. "...He's not the one responsible for attacking the town."

Regina was leaning forward, a hand dropping casually back to her side as if she'd recently reached out and was trying to cover it. She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He's dead," Emma smiled, basking in that memory. Covered in the gore of someone who had hurt her had been one of the few things she'd ever done that had given her peace. She wondered what that said about her. And then realized she didn't care.

Regina, for her part, appeared stunned. "You … you killed him? Are you certain?"

"Uh, yeah. He kind of exploded right in front of me." She was now only about a foot from the brunette, who stared at her, completely frozen. Of all the emotions that she'd seen on Regina's face throughout this conversation, somehow this one, the one where she was looking at Emma as if she'd suddenly grown another head, was the most disturbing. She'd just admitted to killing Regina's Queen, she realized with a scowl. "Look, I'm not going to apologi-"

"I could kiss you right now."

"-ize. ...What?" She had to have misheard that. Right?

Regina smiled, but did not repeat herself, leaving Emma to wonder if maybe her sleep-deprived brain really had made that up. The Queen, apparently suddenly happy again, nevertheless raked her eyes almost hungrily over the blonde. Appraising her. "I shouldn't be surprised, really. I saw how you handled yourself in the fight." She seemed impressed, but the smile dwindled just a little. Emma found herself missing it. "Still, I wouldn't go around saying that very loudly," she offered, almost conspiratorially. "We had our... disagreements, and goodness knows a great number of people here detested him, but Gold was a Queen, and he was very much beloved by at least two people in this town."

"'Beloved'?" She repeated, disbelieving. Emma would have said more, but a series of loud thumps from nearby jolted them both out of their seats. They looked at the door, and then at one another. "Henry."

Regina reached the door first, yanking it open with savage force and barreling her way down the hall to their son's room. The door was open, the bed was empty.

"Henry?!"

Frantic, the Queen turned to Emma, just joining her in the hall, and then together they ran down the stairs calling their son's name at the top of their lungs.

When they reached the kitchen, the boy in question poked his head out of the warmer, a bag of blood in one hand and a glass in the other. "What?" he asked, completely confused and innocent. "...I woke up hungry."

Emma felt her heart about to burst just at the relief of seeing him. "God, kid!" she exclaimed, running a hand through her hair and trying not to pull it out. "You scared us to death!"

A/N: Not a very actiony chapter, I know, but still a very important one. The action returns very soon indeed, I promise. If you enjoyed, please review!

~M