Hey guys, thanks for the reviews! I appreciate all comments, concerns, and ideas. For those of you who feel that I should have put a warning up front about this being a sad fic (if in fact it is a sad fic); I didn't do that, as I feel warnings are spoilers. However, to address the concern, let me answer in a metaphor relevant to the story: it may be a bumpy ride that we're on, but this car does have seat belts and airbags ;) Anyway, I hope you stick around for this ride and enjoy chapter 9 :)
The old yellow bug pulled into the driveway of the Mills' home right behind the black Mercedes just at five. Emma closed her door and walked up to Regina, who was opening up her trunk.
"Here," she said, reaching her arm around Regina's back to grab her suitcase from her, "let me get that."
"Thank you," Regina said, half surprised by Emma's emergence.
As Emma walked up the path with Regina's luggage, Henry greeted his mom with a hug. He chatted away about missing her and how they had spent the weekend. Without thinking about it, Emma reached into her pocket to grab the house key that she still kept on the keychain. Regina, still listening to Henry, glanced over in surprise. She saw that the key still had a label on it in her handwriting, reading 'Home'. At this, she smiled.
"Henry, dear," Regina said, "why don't you take your things upstairs and wash up for dinner?"
As their son ran up the staircase, Regina turned back to Emma. "Thanks again for taking him this weekend."
"Not a problem," she said, "you know I love the time I get with Henry."
"Well, he certainly misses you."
There was a short pause after this. It was one of those remarks Regina regretted vocalizing as soon as she said it, knowing it would only trigger bad memories. But they skipped passed it with nothing more than a beat.
"I was just about to put supper in the oven," Regina said, "Would you like to join us?"
"I really should be heading back."
"It's lasagna," Regina said with a smile, "I know it's your favorite."
Emma smiled and nodded, unable to resist Regina's cooking. She followed the brunette into the kitchen. Once in the room, they both slipped into old routines. Emma pulled down two wine glasses as Regina pulled the set up dish out of the refrigerator. As Emma poured them each a glass of cabernet, she laughed to herself, taking notice of how this whole set up was highly reminiscent of dinner rituals when they were together. The only thing missing was Michael Bublé singing from her I-pod and her hands on Regina's waist as she prepared the meal.
"You've really got to give me this recipe sometime," Emma said, as she handed Regina her wine.
"I thought Kate was the chef?" Regina asked while raising an eyebrow. Emma simply took a sip of her wine and Regina smiled.
"Let's just say I'm not partial to her secret ingredients," Emma chuckled.
"Well, what kind of cooking can you expect out of a twenty-year old?" Regina scoffed.
Just then, Henry joined them in the kitchen, defusing any potential tension. He went straight to the fridge and grabbed the juice. After unscrewing the cap, he took a huge slug of the beverage.
"Henry! Glass!" Regina scolded as the boy wiped the remnants with the back of his hand.
"Kid, ever hear of a napkin?" Emma added in. Regina simply laughed, looking back at the blonde.
"Apparently you haven't either," she said. She reached for the wet dish cloth and without thinking, dabbed the corners of Emma's mouth. "You never could keep red wine from staining the edge of your lips."
Henry, watching this entire display of casual intimacy between his mothers, smiled. "When will dinner be ready?" he asked.
"Not for another half-hour," Regina answered, tossing the cloth back on the center of the double sink basins.
"I'll be up in my room," he said slowly, with a grin, and then scampered off like an imp. At this, Emma rolled her eyes and laughed.
Once Henry was out of earshot, Regina responded to their son's attempts at trickery. "I swear he asks once a week if you and I are getting back together," she said, not looking up from the sink.
Emma laughed and sipped more of her wine. "You know, he made me tell him the story again."
"No!" Regina shot back, her mouth parted in shock, turning to a slight grin.
"Yeah, he claimed it was for some school project."
"Well," Regina said, swirling her own wine around in her glass, "he did have a project."
"Yeah," Emma let out a raspy breath, "no doubt my mother put him up to using that story."
This took Regina aback. "Why would she do that, dear? Doesn't she hate me?"
"Pshh," Emma laughed. "Not as much as she feels confused by Kate. At least you're from her world."
"And not a child practically," Regina added, snickering.
"Yeah, yeah," Emma grumbled out, knowing she was probably right.
Dinner went off without a hitch. They talked more about the weekend, and then filled Emma in on the latest events they had experienced in Storybrooke. Henry always retold stories with elaborate detail and great expressions that had both women laughing. His ramblings led them to catch one another's eye more than once amidst the meal, smiling warmly at the love they shared for their son.
"Dinner was delicious as always," Emma said, as Regina collected her plate.
Regina smiled. "Thank you, dear," she looked over to Henry's dish and vacant seat, "I'm glad someone appreciates it," she added, loud enough for her son, who had snuck upstairs, to hear.
"I do! Great dinner Mom!" he yelled back down the stairs.
Regina rolled her eyes and grabbed his plate. "You'd think he'd know how to use a sink and dishwasher by now," she complained.
Emma laughed as she cleared the rest of the dishes. "Let me. He probably has some homework to finish."
"More like some video game to play," Regina corrected as they both went into the kitchen.
Emma rolled up her sleeves and loaded the dishwasher as Regina refilled their wine glasses. The brunette stole looks at her ex-girlfriend. She admired the flex in Emma's toned forearms as she rinsed each plate. She hid a devilish grin behind her glass.
"Thanks again for dinner," Emma said, drying off her hands in the kitchen towel. She took the glass that Regina handed to her. Before she could say that she should get going, she found herself following Regina into the study.
Emma sat on the couch as Regina put on soft music, allowing it to overtake the silence that filled the room. The conversation at dinner had mostly focused around Henry. Without their son as a distraction, there was nothing to discuss but them.
"So how's work?" Regina finally asked.
"Good," Emma said after taking a large swig of her wine. "I actually just got promoted last month to Detective."
"That's wonderful," Regina said, "why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"Ah," she batted her hand in the air at the question, "I just assumed you weren't interested."
"Whatever gave you that impression, dear?"
"Well," Emma said, sighing a bit, "you weren't exactly supportive when I joined the force."
"Don't be silly!"
Emma laughed. "I think you have a terrible memory."
Regina gave a sharp look and shifted her gaze to the corner of her eye. "You'd be surprised at what I remember, Ms. Swan," she said with a playful emphasis on her name.
"Oh yeah, like what?"
"Lots of things," Regina answered with a grin. She shifted the conversation back to Emma's job. "So do you still work long hours?"
"No, actually I only work five days a week now. Out every day by five," Emma said and took in more wine. "Oh and two days a week I get out early so I can go to my class."
Regina choked on her own wine at the sound of this. "Class? What class?"
"I signed up for a European history course," Emma explained with enthusiasm. Regina's jaw dropped open ever so slightly as her eyebrows knitted themselves in a heap. "Yeah, last semester, I started reading one of Kate's books that she left at my place. Couldn't put it down. When she found out, she let me read all the material from her class."
Regina's mouth was still open. She reads now? What is this?
"And so I asked one of the professors if I could audit a class. Seeing as how he had unpaid parking tickets," Emma paused to laugh, "he let me take it."
Emma finally looked up to notice Regina's bewildered stare.
"What?! It's not exactly a bribe!" she defended herself. Still, Regina said nothing.
She reads scholarly literature. And audited a class.
"No, dear," Regina finally spoke, "I'm just surprised…you never read when we were dating."
"Yeah," Emma said, "I guess it just takes the right influence."
The right influence? What the hell does that mean? Oh, some young twenty-year old know-it-all has more influence to better oneself than a former queen?
"Well, dear," Regina was beside herself, "that's great for you."
Emma paused for a moment. "Have you ever read Tilly?"
For the next two hours, Regina and Emma found themselves immersed in the most engaging conversation either had had in as long as they could remember. They discussed everything from history, to politics, to scientific discoveries they had learned about from the news. Both women laughed, cried, raised their voice, and nodded in agreement. After the first twenty minutes, during which Emma explained her recent readings on state formation, Regina moved passed her shock. Here she was, talking about complex issues of academia and social sciences with a woman who couldn't bother to read the paper, let alone a book, back when she was in Storybrooke. To Regina's pleasant surprise, she'd never felt more intellectually stimulated.
"That's ridiculous!" she griped, as she refilled both of their wine glasses for the fourth time, "Surely a state formed by people united by the same ideologies can be successful!"
"Not necessarily in the long run," Emma retorted, taking her wine.
"How do you figure?" Regina asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm just saying I think Tilly has a point," she explained, "states formed by war run a longer timeline in terms of formation, and thus there is a larger adjustment period. It's more profitable, ironically, and therefore creates a stable nation."
"So you think simply having a shared identity isn't strong enough to make a solid state?" Regina asked, her eyebrows now scrunched up in confusion.
"I'm just saying that shared identity is often an illusion," Emma clarified. "Take the U.S. for example—a nation supposedly united by a shared desire for liberty and freedom to choose, right?"
"Yes," Regina nodded.
"But what the fuck does New York have in common with Florida?" Emma asked.
Regina silently sipped her wine. "I'm…not quite sure."
"Exactly," Emma grinned. Regina chuckled at her expression.
"So your vote is with the state made from a war-torn hell-hole?" Regina asked in jest.
"Ha," Emma laughed as well, "I find it funnier that the Evil Queen is opposed to war."
Regina took a large swig of her wine. "I'll have you know, I only warred with your mother and father's kingdom."
"And did it improve your economy…?"
Regina looked away, reluctant to answer. "…It did," she finally mumbled.
"Hah!" Emma said, standing up at her theoretical victory, "I told you!" She pointed a finger at Regina, making the queen laugh.
"What's so funny?"
Regina took a moment to calm herself. "Nothing, dear," she said, "It's just….been so long since I've had an intelligent conversation."
It was true. No one in Storybrooke really read, except for Belle. And though they were on speaking terms, Regina didn't think Belle would be up for coffee with the woman who locked her in a ward for twenty-eight years. Regina began to smile warmly at Emma, as she thought of how much she had changed. But her thoughts were interrupted by Emma's cell phone.
"Shit, it's Kate," Emma said apologetically. "I should take this."
Regina nodded, pouring herself more wine. For the evening, she had forgotten about the other woman—no, rather, the woman in Emma's life. The night felt like it belonged in the months prior.
"Hey, yeah, sorry I didn't call…," Emma said into the phone, "Yeah, I had to stay an extra day. I had dinner at Regina's….yes…I'm still here….oh shit, really?"
Regina watched as Emma looked up to the clock on the wall. It was quarter 'til two in the morning.
"Yeah, I can't take tomorrow off…I'll head out now." There was a momentary pause. "I love you too." The words made Regina cringe to herself.
Emma slid the phone back into her pocket. "You need to leave?" Regina asked, even though she knew the answer.
"Yeah," she sighed. "I didn't realize it was so late…we were having such a good time."
"Yes, we were," Regina said. She watched Emma slip into her leather jacket and prepare to exit the room. She followed her to the door.
"Thanks again for dinner," she said, grabbing at the handle.
"Thanks for the company," Regina let out. Again, a comment she regretted. But only for the briefest moment, as in the next, she found Emma had leaned in for a hug. She breathed in her scent—citrus mixed with a woody aroma. They broke the hug awkwardly, leaving each other with a smile.
Regina finished the rest of her wine on the porch, watching Emma pull away in the bug. She felt frozen to the space, unable to leave. She didn't know why. She simply sat in the darkness and looked out to the deep blue night sky, unable to bring herself to sleep.