I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, even though it's kinda short. I hope you like the interaction between our leading ladies. Keep up the comments and likes! They motivate me to update faster!

Regina was sitting in her lounge, nursing a small glass of whiskey, listening to some jazz to try and drown out the cacophony of her thoughts. She had done this every night since she had ki-woken Emma from her sleeping curse. The images of that night ceaselessly crashed around her head and behind her eyes, creating a highly persistent, highly infuriating headache in her temples that no pharmaceutical could thwart; the whiskey just made it easier to ignore.

Her tongue absentmindedly ran over her lips while she thought about the sensation of them molding around the blonde's and the responding heat she felt crash through her unprepared body. Her expression soured, remembering the grin that pulled her lips back across her teeth, the gentle bliss of seeing those emerald eyes staring back into her own again.

Regina took a long sip from her drink, grimacing not at the hot path the alcohol was scorching down her throat, but at her own foolishness. The moment Emma's focus truly landed on her, the mayor saw nothing but abject horror in those stormy, confused eyes. Emma didn't wake to her True Love; she woke to find the her greatest rival, the woman who made her life in Storybrooke hell, the woman who thoughtlessly hurt anyone who threatened her life with Henry, the woman who tried to kill her, hovering above her, smiling like some psychotic lunatic.

Mother was right, she thought bitterly, swallowing the remainder of the amber liquid, love really is weakness. What did she think would happen? That when she kissed the Savior, Emma would look upon her in a new light, and she would simply forget all that Regina tried to do to her? For love? She snorted derisively. Those were the idle fantasies of a teenaged girl who thought she could outrun her destiny, her mother, with the handsome stable boy. Those were thoughts for a girl who believed that Love truly could conquer all, that a little girl could keep a secret, that her life was in her own hands.

No, Emma did not see her True Love when she woke. Emma saw Mayor Mills, the Evil Queen, her enemy, and the woman she was destined to defeat - though the blonde did not yet believe it. The sound of the sheriff calling after her as she fled rang through Regina's mind again. The tone did not sound kind, inviting, or happy. Emma sounded disturbed, and she probably wanted to demand why the brunette was there, and how she was planning on killing her.

She tightened her jaw, feeling fresh embarrassment bubbling up in her stomach, mixing with the whiskey into nothing but anger at her stupidity. Maybe she would have been better off leaving Emma asleep, and succumbing to insanity. At least she'd never again have to endure this shame and horror she was feeling.

She flushed with chagrin, chastising herself for daring to even think like that. A wish like that would leave Henry orphaned - again - and she would never be able to live with herself, abandoning her most beloved boy because she felt incapable of handling some cross feelings for the blonde thorn in her side.

Regina got up, about to head over to the bar to pour herself another drink, when her cell phone went off. She nearly jumped out of her skin, forgetting how loud she had the ringer and the way it echoed in the empty house. When she looked at the screen, she saw that the call was from Mary Margaret, and her first instinct was to ignore it. However, she quickly remembered that she was still watching over Henry, and her stomach dropped, afraid something had happened to him.

She was already bristling, ready to lash out if she had somehow allowed any harm to come to her son. "Ms Blanchard, have you any idea what time it is?" She 'greeted' in icy tones.

"I beg your pardon, Regina, but I'm sure you've heard that Emma is out of the hospital?"

"Are you trying to say that you called me after ten pm to announce to me that the sheriff was discharged, a fact that you already assumed I was aware of?"

"N-No. It's just, she's moving back in with me, which means there's no room for Henry, and..." Her voice trailed off pathetically, clearly unable to say that the only reason she seemed to relinquish Henry to his own mother was because her miniscule apartment was too full.

Regina chuckled mirthlessly, enjoying Mary Margaret's insecurity. "Tell me, what did you have to bribe Miss Swan with to get her to give me my son back?"

There was a pause. "Nothing. It was Emma's idea." The teacher stated the words lightly, but Regina could hear the slight victory to her voice, having been able to defy the mayor's assumptions.

Something writhed deep in the brunette's gut, making her unable to respond. Emma was willingly giving Henry back to her? Emma was the one who came up with this idea? Emma?

"Regina?"

"Indeed. When did you want me to get him?"

"I think Emma was hoping you would come right now. She's upstairs packing with him, and I think she's just really tired."

"Because someone who has been cur-in a coma for a month is hardly rested," Regina replied dryly. She knew the comment was in poor taste, but she wasn't sure she cared. Rather, she couldn't let herself care. She smirked a little bit at Mary Margaret's stunned silence. "I will head out shortly."

She didn't bother waiting for a response before hanging up. The brunette was thrown into another swirl of warring emotions. She was thrilled that she was going to have Henry back. The weeks spent in her big empty house left her feeling as lost as she did before she adopted him. But she was unable to tell what it was supposed to mean that Emma was giving him back. Why so suddenly? Why no fight? Maybe her head was more addled than she thought.

Regina touched up her makeup after slipping out of her pajamas. She was tempted to don one of her usual power suits in an attempt to show Emma that she wasn't to be toyed with, but it was late, and that dolt, Mary Margaret, said the blonde was tired. She opted instead for her usual black slacks and a crisp white blouse. Nothing too overpowering, but it was still an outfit that expressed order and control.

She slipped on the only pair of flats she owned, because her feet still held a residual ache from her wounds that she hadn't been able to shake. Her usual stilettos were hardly bearable for more than an hour, and boots weren't much better. She grimaced that she'd be losing those few inches that she usually had to stay on the same height with the tall blonde. She still had better posture, and Regina knew Emma would be slouching if she was tired. There was no point in fussing over those details, and she shook herself when she slipped on her black trench coat.

Regina remembered to pop a mint in her mouth on her way up to the apartment, not wanting anyone to potentially catch a whiff of whiskey on her breath. She stood facing the paint-chipped door, composing herself for what was to come. The mayor squared her shoulders, holding herself in her most regal upright position she could muster, while jutting her chin out ever so slightly. She cleared her eyes of any emotion, adopting a haughty, almost bored expression.

Convinced that her walls would betray nothing to the blonde or her moronic roommate, she rapped her knuckles against the wood. She heard a muffled response, and what sounded like a small crash. Regina was tempted to knock again, just to display her irritation, but she bit back the childish impulse after hearing the heavy thump of the blonde's footfalls on the stairs.

She heard the click of a lock and the grating of a heavy deadbolt sliding back before the door swung open to reveal Emma Swan. The sheriff was clad in grey sweatpants and a white tank top. Regina could see Emma's black sports bra under the thin material. It was also not lost on the mayor how the normally buoyant, playful curls of Emma's hair now lay limp and lifeless around her strong shoulders.

What caught Regina's attention the most was how heavily the sheriff was leaning on a plain aluminum cane. She couldn't fathom the reason the normally stalwart woman would need something like that for. Her gaze tracked up her body to finally lock eyes with her.

She felt the slightest flush touch her cheeks at having been caught staring, but she held the gaze nonetheless, continuing to keep her eyes devoid of emotion. Emma Swan did not seem to be thinking along the same lines. Her formerly-vibrant olive eyes now seemed sunken and weary. She took in the deep purple bruising beneath those tired orbs and the sallow look to Emma's skin. To be blunt, the Savior looked like a mere shadow of herself, and Regina was barely conscious of the way her blood seemed to be hammering in her ears.

Emma cleared her throat awkwardly, failing to hide her own assessing once-over of the brunette. "Henry should be down in a minute. He's just finishing up packing." Regina remained silent. "Er... Thanks for coming on such short notice." Emma tried smiling weakly

"Yes, well, he is my son, Miss Swan. And you look hardly fit to take care of anything, not even a gerbil."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I want him back with you. He was crazy to run off like that, and you're the one who knows how to look after him best," Emma responded, looking away, her voice laden with defeat and maybe even a little self-loathing, Regina thought. She was prepared for their usual biting, snarky banter, but it seemed that even the spitfire blonde was too worn for one of their verbal battles.

"It's about time that you learned something right for once," she bit back, refusing to drop her walls, even though the sheriff's words dug straight underneath them. Just when she thought she had the other woman figured, Emma went and negated everything she had anticipated. She tightened her lips imperceptibly, frustrated.

"Yeah, well, maybe it's the sleep deprivation talking, or the fact that I was in a coma for five weeks, but it kinda put things into a different perspective for me." She sighed heavily. "It's probably the lack of sleep. Bet a shot of bourbon would probably help put me out, but doc's orders. No alcohol for me," Emma said with mock enthusiasm.

Neither woman could explain why they were attempting awkwardly-forced small talk, but neither woman tried to stop it either. Regina remained as immaculate and composed as she was able, while Emma shuffled uncomfortably, starting to feel the weakness in her legs again.

Henry still hadn't come down, and Emma was tempted to call over her shoulder for him, somewhat eager to leave this conversation, and make another failed attempt at sleep. Yet, she didn't. Little did the women know that Henry was deliberately dawdling, having finished packing not long after his birthmother answered the door. He had been listening in secret, looking for any sign of a connection.

"Why can't you sleep?" Regina winced internally, immediately regretting letting the hint of concern color the inquiry. She played it off by following it up with, "And I hope it's a problem that can be sorted out quickly. Storybrooke cannot have its sheriff dragging her feet, giving a sub-par performance."

Emma grunted at the comment. "I uhh... I can't really say why I haven't been able to..." She locked her eyes with Regina's. Something passed between them. Something that definitely didn't have a name or form. Both women felt it, but neither were really aware of it. Regina's mouth went dry while Emma felt like her guts were twisting.

"Nightmares."

"What?"

"It's why I can't sleep. I had horrible nightmares in my coma, and I can't seem to shake 'em. That, and I'm cold."

A hot wave of guilt washed over Regina when she remembered one aspect of the sleeping curse was that it forced its victim to relive all of their worst moments. She remembered the blonde's checkered past and realized that it probably contained more than a handful of horrors.

"Perhaps if you dressed more warmly, Miss Swan, you wouldn't be so cold."

"No, like, I'm cold cold. Every time I take my temp it says it's normal, but I'm fucking freezing. Feel."

Emma's free hand darted out to take one of Regina's, and the brunette gasped at the sudden, and definitely not permitted contact. She was completely startled at the fact that the blonde's digits felt as icy as they had the first night Regina dared to touch them in the hospital.

Regina reflexively jerked her hand away, her face hardening with a look of venom. Emma hobbled back a step, looking sheepish, a deep blush creeping up over her colorless cheeks. Henry, bless him, finally chose to come down, backpack slung over one shoulder and duffel bag clutched in his fist.

"Henry!" Regina flashed him the warmest smile she could, trying to quell the explosion of frantic butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach. "I've missed you so much." She deliberately scooped him up into a back-breaking hug, determined to show the blonde how much she really loved the gasping boy in her arms.

"Whoa, easy, Mom," he said rubbing his sides, giving her a really confused look. He turned his big puppy-eyes to his birthmother, giving her a pleading look, and a heavy, heartfelt sigh.

"It's not goodbye forever, Kid. Now go on," Emma said, always uncomfortable with goodbyes. "It's past your bed time, and your mom's tired. I'll see you around, 'kay?"

"Okay... I'll see you around." Henry slammed himself into her middle for a goodbye hug, and the Savior's legs wobbled dangerously after being thrown off balance. She gave him a one-armed embrace in return while Regina looked on with distaste.

"C'mon, Kid. Don't keep your mom waiting," she said gruffly. He let go and turned to leave.

"Tell Ms Blanchard I said bye," he called over his shoulder.

"Will do. G'night, Regina. Thanks again," Emma said wearily.

"Miss Swan." Regina gracefully inclined her head, leaving with a confident strut, determined not to look back as she heard the door swing shut on creaky hinges, determined to fight the way her hands shook, determined not to whisper Sleep well under her breath.

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