A/N: So sorry for the delay, and for the length, but I hope you'll still find it worthwhile.

This was it, Regina had decided. It was time.

She was going to sit in the cafeteria, at Emma's table, with Emma's friends.

She had essentially made her choice after their time in the stables. Emma was right—she didn't want to lose what they had because of some insignificant threat, and it wasn't like she mind the rest of Emma's friends these days. Tink and Ruby she actually thought she might be able to make friends of her own, and Killian was amusing to taunt. She wasn't sure what to think about David, but the only one left that truly inspired her discomfort was Mary Margaret. But telling Emma about Daniel, about what had happened afterward, having her support—somehow it was enough to loosen the stranglehold of her hatred. Yes, the idiot girl had essentially ruined her life, but so had Mayor Blanchard, and the police, and…her mother. Mostly her mother, her subconscious would shout, but she couldn't think like that. She couldn't live like that. Her mother loved her. She just didn't always go about it in the best ways.

Anyway, with Emma's understanding and subsequent promises to protect, she could tolerate a meal with Mary Margaret at the other end of the table. And it would be good for Emma, since she hadn't been spending the kind of time she was used to with her friends, and good for the both of them, since Regina's inclusion in the group would help counteract the idea that Emma was particularly interested—though no one had seemed to pick up on that. She just wanted to be smart about it for their month left in the world of high school gossip. This was the best move. And she could handle it. With flawed and yet somehow perfect Emma by her side.

She hadn't told Emma just then of course. They had spent longer than she intended roaming the forest after Emma's demands for "horse dancing" had led to endless laughter when Emma had tried to parody Rocinante's steps.

Emma knew, just knew, that any reminder would hurt. That Regina had discussed what she had wanted to discuss, and pushing further would only end poorly. That distraction and enjoyment was the best possible course of action, so that was what they did. It didn't stop Emma from sharing though. Their ride back was filled with all sorts of detours, Emma's voice carrying over the gentle clopping of hooves, telling every story she could think of. Usually, Regina's return to the stables on the days she visited their tree were gloomy, no matter how beautiful the day, or even if she had managed to just reminisce happily as Ro kept her company. It was just too hard to return to her reality. But with Emma, she felt buoyed. The ache was still there. It always would be. But it was no longer worth pressing the bruise to be reminded of her pain. Not when there was a blonde idiot who was so insistent on distracting her from it even when she had plenty of her own to deal with.

They parted reluctantly that afternoon, Emma insisting on making weekend plans that very minute since she would be busy with a meet the next night. And that was when Regina mentioned that she might be amenable to spending lunch with everyone. Emma's face lighting up had completely affirmed her decision, and they left each other excited to return to school the next day.

As was becoming more and more common, they spent as much as the morning together as possible, seeking each other out in any spare moment. English continued their warmth, especially in its ease. Friday was the last day of real class before AP exams started pulling people out, including Regina, who had tests scheduled for every block except Monday morning, of course. Emma had already been dreading the next week, but now she had reasons other than her own tests.

Emma stepped outside the classroom, leaning against the nearby lockers with a smile. Any worries of the more distant future had been eclipsed for the moment by excitement for the immediate. Regina was going to have lunch with all of them. She had to admit, she was oddly reluctant to give up her one-on-one time in her new favorite room with the worn piano, but this was amazing. Everyone should want to be friends with Regina, and now they really would, if only for the wrong reasons. It wouldn't matter as long as she started getting the respect she deserved. And as long as her friends kept their mouth shut about how Regina had come to sit with them in the first place. But Emma wasn't nervous. No one had really mentioned it for a while, not since she and Regina had really started hanging out, and she was pretty sure most of them liked Regina now, anyway. Now Regina just had to hurry up and finish talking to Ms. Sanders about her paper so they could get down there. Though the more Emma considered it, she probably should be talking to Ms. Sanders, too. Her paper was looking a little on the sorry side.

Her thoughts shifted when while surveying the hall, she spotted Whale a little ways away catching her attention and making his way over. He rarely sought her out, not since her first days rejecting him, and she could not figure out why he would now.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached. "Is Regina coming down to the cafeteria with you?"

That hadn't been what she expected to hear at all. She didn't think either of them had dedicated any thought to the other since that brief interaction at Whale's party. Apparently, she was wrong, and she didn't much like it.

"Yeah…why?"

"Great. See you then," he resolved, making his move away from her before thinking of something else. "Give us some space, would you?"

So he didn't answer her question and now he was adding more—what could he want with room with Regina?

"Wait a second," she stood up straighter, hoping to convey the menace he sometimes seemed to respond to. "What are you up to?"

He stopped his retreat and turned around, meeting her gaze straight on.

"I'm going to ask her to prom."

As Emma gaped, her mind ran through Whale's sleazy commentary from the cookout, his approach at his party—had he run through all of his other options, or was he just determined to be the biggest tool possible by using all the pressure of prom against the one girl in school who was probably least prepared for it?

"No way," Emma spat, closing the distance, "She doesn't want to go with you."

The smirk on Whale's face didn't budge.

"I'm pretty sure she can make her own decision. It's not like she has anyone else asking her, even with your best efforts," he added.

"Fuck off."

Emma's anger was starting to draw the attention of some of the passerby left in the hall. She knew she shouldn't be letting him get to her. She knew that Regina was more than capable on her own and that she was still 90% sure Regina would rather go to the prom with her. But the thought of that not being enough, the thought of her going with the least trustworthy guy in school, of having to deal with him on this supposedly fun night that Emma had convinced her to go to in the first place—it was enough to make her stomach churn. Unfortunately, Whale was not finished, not having taken well to her dismissal.

"Look Swan, you maybe managed to convince some people she's queen material, but I wouldn't be too confident about winning that bet."

"Dammit, Wha—"

"Bet?"

With that one word, everything around Emma Swan froze.

Regina stood in the doorway, watching them uncertainly. There was no way to tell how much she had been around for but for the fear and distrust flashing in her eyes.

"Regina!" Whale reached out to her, instantly transforming to better suit the circumstances. "It's so stupid. I told her she was wrong to, but—"

Regina cut him off, never breaking eye contact with Emma, who was still unable to process what was happening.

"What. Bet."

This time Emma couldn't bring herself to respond. There was no getting out of this. She couldn't lie anymore. Whale of course didn't hesitate to step in.

"Emma bet she could make anyone Prom Queen," he explained to Regina with false sympathy for her and derision for the bet, "Her friends picked you. It was s—"

Regina held up a hand, barely keeping it from shaking, and returned her concentration to Emma.

"Is it true?"

Emma looked, truly looked at the girl who had become her friend, her best friend if she were being honest, the one who understood her best, who she trusted more than any other despite knowing her for under a month. This girl who was strong and fierce and defiant who she was about to destroy. Again. She could only hate herself more if she didn't manage to spit out one word, to give Regina what she asked for, the truth.

"Yes."

Only one word and everything crumbled.

After a moment of overwhelming silence, unable to do anything but stare into the face she had trusted absolutely just minutes ago, Regina managed to get her bearings and whirled away from the pair, away from all of it.

Whale made a move to be the comforter, but Emma pushed him away, going after her. She had to go after her.

"Regina, wait, please," she begged, not caring how crushed she sounded.

Regina didn't even falter, her steps growing quicker. She needed to leave. Now.

"Regina!" Emma caught up enough to reach out, grab her wrist, just to get her to turn.

She found it was the wrong idea when she met the hatred in Regina's eyes.

"Let go of me!" She exploded, shaking off Emma's offending hand. Emma wanted to do this now, in front of everyone? Fine. They would do this now. It wasn't like she had any lower to fall in the social strata anyway.

"It was all a lie?" She pushed out, tense with the effort of keeping some sort of handle on herself, already feeling the tears straining to be free, but her hurt was unabated. And now, letting herself think, if even just for a moment, all the implications crushed her at once, each realization bringing her closer to feeling physically sick.

"Every time you were excited to see me, every time you wanted to get together, every time you were interested—pretended to be interested in what I had to say, in me, it was because you got another step closer? Because I was some pet project? I was some fucking bet?"

"No," Emma pleaded, breaking in as soon as she could, "Regina, it wasn't—"

"God, I told you everything!" Regina wailed, her fresh understanding making her ache with such intensity she wasn't sure she could keep standing. "I trusted you!"

Emma broke. She had ruined everything.

She didn't even try to keep the tears from rolling down her face. Even though she was being watched by everyone left in the hall. Even though she never cried in public. Anything to show Regina how sorry she was.

"Regina, please—"

Regina took one last look at Emma, so distraught.

All a lie.

"Go to hell."

She walked away as fast as she could, leaving Emma standing slumped in the hall.

As soon as she heard the front door, she came running down the stairs, not caring what her mother might do, and ran straight into her father, his arms dropping his luggage to hold her instead.

"Regina," Cora scolded, arriving to the scene much more gracefully from her study, "Stop being overdramatic."

Her father wrapped his arms tighter around her at Cora's tone, placing a kiss on her crown.

"Cora, she's just glad to see her father, let her be."

Cora scoffed, but allowed the moment for a time, preferring instead to return to her business and ignore it all together.

But Regina stayed, so sure that her tears would leave stains on her father's dress shirt, but not sure he knew why they were there. Daddy was a good man, but he didn't always see the truth. Didn't always want to see it. She would tell him what happened, later, when they had more time and less fear of Cora nearby, after she had spent even more of her tears crying on her own, but he wasn't going to understand. Not really.

She would take whatever comfort he offered, but the thought was sobering enough to contain her tears, to allow her to look up and give him a proper kiss on the cheek in greeting. She helped him gather his things and led their way upstairs, her back regaining some of its rigidity as she answered the harmless questions he asked about her life.

He loved her. She knew he did. But he didn't know her.

Without Emma, she was left with no one who understood.

Alone, once again.