The blonde suffers a feeling of intense doubt following her decision to stop by the station before heading to the Mayor's house - swapping her bug for the cruiser - praying her actions haven't cost her too much time.
"It'd be just like you to fuck this up... And, after she came through for you the way she did-"
-Oh for fuck's sake, can the self-pity party wait until later, Swan?
She laughs out loud at this - wondering if perhaps she really is losing it just a little - imagining that if ever there was a time for her seemingly instinctual depreciation of self - her ever-pessimistic view on things - it would be now.
Racing in through the gates bookending the mansion's drive, she plays a few piercing notes of the siren as she swerves to a halt outside the stone steps at which a group of about seven or eight individuals stand clustered with their fists pounding at the door.
"Hey!"
She assesses the damage swiftly and is relieved to see that, while the angry citizens who stand valiantly against their Queen create a terrifying racket, their rage seems to have been channelled primarily into infuriated cries. The only real sign of vandalism is an empty crater where once there was a window to the side of the door, but the smashed pane is high, and she imagines it would be almost impossible to enter the house through the jagged opening.
She isn't willing to take any chances.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
She shouts, and the furious threats abate, as one by one the angered citizens turn to face her. The blonde possesses more authority than she should in her hooded sweatshirt, but the heavy material casting her face into shadow leaves just the angry flash of her teeth, and the long hair that tumbles down over her chest leaves them in little doubt of who stands before them.
"My dear, she is the Queen! And here in this land, she will not ruin us the way she did before! She must be punished for her sins! She must be destroyed!"
"Have you lost your fucking mind!?"
The blonde growls at the squat little woman who speaks up with her chest puffed out in conviction. She recognises the majority of the furious mob by face alone, having seen them around and about but never exchanging words. Miss Ginger, she knows well, however, and she decides the sour-faced woman is just as irksome as whoever the fuck she is now as she was before the breaking of the Curse.
Turns out even magic can't make shit shine.
"Step away, all of you. You're trespassing."
She warns, addressing the small hoard of protesters.
"She's the Queen!"
A sullen-eyed gentleman proclaims from the back of the crowd.
"And I'm the Sheriff!"
"My poor love, you seem frightfully confused. We have no use for you here. Things have changed! She deserves to suffer what she has coming to her. We don't need a Sheriff!"
Miss Ginger laughs and shakes her head as several of the men behind her nod in agreement. Stalking up the steps until she stands toe-to-toe with the scowling redhead, Emma looks down at her from beneath the shadow of her hood; the height advantage she has over the squat woman allowing her to lean into the other's face.
"You know who I am. All of you... You may not need a Sheriff, but you sure as hell needed a Saviour. Now get out. This isn't your fight."
Her voice is low, and she's surprised by how calm she has managed to keep her tone, but the effect works in her favour; uncomfortable glances exchanging between those stood on the doorstep with their fists raised, before one by one, the angered mob slink off towards the gates.
It is unwise to anger the Evil Queen. But it is unwise, also, to go against reigning royalty.
Standing with her arms crossed over her chest, the blonde watches as the last of the small crowd - Miss Ginger, of course it would be that jumped up little shit - make their way down the generous driveway and out onto the street.
They actually listened to me...
She muses with a sense of surprise. Ducking back inside the cruiser, she drives slowly back towards the gates before pulling to a stop at an angle; blocking the driveway neatly. She decides it was worth the detour to the station after all, hoping the cruiser will demand a little more respect than her own car.
You say that now, but what if it had cost her her safety?
"Oh shut up! I'm doing my best here!"
Not good enough.
"Stop it!"
She growls angrily, supposing she must look quite mad standing around muttering to herself in the pink glow of dawn. Looking up at the mansion she has come to know so painfully well, she shoves her hands inside her pockets and marches back up the drive, mounting the stone steps slowly before rapping her fist against the door.
"Regina?"
She receives no answer, but she consoles herself with the thought that this is hardly surprising; what with the furious knocking hailing down on the smartly painted wood not five minutes ago. Slipping aside the cap that covers the keyhole, the blonde yells through the gap in the wood, feeling ever so slightly foolish.
"Come on, it's just me!"
She assures the Mayor. Cocking her head to the side, she listens, pulling her lip between her teeth and nibbling nervously. The hallway lies cloaked in darkness, much like the rest of the house from what she can see, and she finds she's suddenly a little less bold with her declaration as to the brunette's sure safety than she was upon her arrival. Glancing up at the smashed pane to her side, she muses that if one were to truly try and wriggle through, it might just be possible.
Jumping down from the steps and pulling herself up onto the narrow ledge, the bottom of the jagged gap is in line with her hips, and she deduces that if she were to manoeuvre herself with a little care, she might just be able to slip through.
Possibly.
Doubtfully.
"Well, nobody ever got anywhere without trying..."
She mutters to herself as she resolves to do just that. Hissing as a vertical shard catches her elbow, she knocks the dangerous tooth of glass out of the way with her sleeve-covered fist. Pulling herself up with shaking arms, she's halfway through the narrow gap when the front door opens, causing her to cry out and barely keep herself from tumbling back down into the flowerbeds.
What on earth are you doing?"
A bemused voice demands, and the Sheriff lowers herself back down to balance onto the window ledge, casting a glance over at the Mayor who stands with her silk robe pulled tightly around her waist and her arms crossed over her chest.
"What the hell does it look like I'm doing? Why didn't you answer the door?"
"Perhaps I fear death threats screamed through my keyhole by an angry mob more than you do... Or perhaps, just perhaps, I was afraid our dear friend Rumplestiltskin was up to no good and had taken on your sweet, dulcet tones in an attempt to lure me downstairs."
"My sweet-... Taken on my voice? Well, I mean... How do you know I'm not him now?"
"Because, you are the only person I know that would be idiotic enough to try and crawl in through my window, dear."
Regina offers the Sheriff a small smile and the younger woman rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, well, I'm the fucking Sheriff. It's my job to make sure everyone's alright."
"Oh, you're just a regular knight in shining armour, Miss Swan."
The darker woman agrees silkily, and the blonde sighs in frustration and climbs down from the ledge with minimal grace. Shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she turns to regard the Queen awkwardly, noting that the latter's trademark sultry tone does little to hide the weariness in her eyes. In turn, she feels her expression soften just a little, noting the nervous pull to full lips that the brunette strives to hide with a too-smug smile.
"Are you okay?"
She asks finally, striving to keep her tone businesslike and neutral.
"I've been better."
Regina replies quietly.
"I meant-... I meant because of what happened just now."
"I see... In that respect, I'm fine. A little perturbed to have my rest disturbed in such a callous fashion, but physically I'm no worse for wear."
"Okay... Well, that's good."
Emma lowers her gaze, feeling hellishly unsure of how best to handle this exchange.
"I just wish the same could be said for yourself."
The brunette frowns.
"Huh?"
"Your elbow. You're bleeding. Honestly, dear, are you incapable of staying in one piece?"
"It's nothing, it's just a scratch."
"Hmm. I think I'll be the judge of that."
The Mayor reaches out for the blonde's arm, but the latter pulls back, eyeing her warily.
"Just let me make sure you're fit to go, dear."
"Regina, please. I'm fine."
The Sheriff growls as she takes another step back, hating the resultant flash of reproach that flickers in dark eyes.
"I'm sure you are, Miss Swan, but I dread to think what germs might have called that old glass home... Please... No doors will keep you captured... I merely wish to check over your injuries before you leave me."
Regina sighs defeatedly, and Emma frowns, rolling back the sleeve of her sweater.
"Seriously, it's nothing."
She insists, but the brunette shakes her head, taking hold of the younger woman's arm gently and inspecting the thin laceration below her elbow. She lifts her hand to heal the cut, but the Sheriff pulls away swiftly with a grimace.
"No... No more magic."
"But, I-...Very well."
The Queen agrees, beckoning for the blonde to follow her through the front door and into her kitchen, ignoring the latter's protests along the way.
"Emma, just let me do this for you."
She demands. Not waiting for an answer, she grabs the first aid kit from under the sink and sits the blonde down at the kitchen table; holding out her hand in a silent request for her arm. Emma appears correct in her declaration that nothing major is amiss; the cut below her elbow shallow and artificial. Still, the brunette presses an antiseptic wipe to the reddened flesh gently, watching the blonde out of the corner of her eye.
"It's okay, Regina..."
Emma mutters when she feels they have sat this way long enough.
"I can see that. I needed to make sure."
The Mayor replies quietly.
"Yeah... Well-"
"-Emma, I-... I can't do this... Will you at least allow me a chance to explain? Just one day, that's all I'm asking... Give me one day to explain to you why I did the things I did."
"... Regina, I could give you twenty-four hours, I could give you twenty-four years. I still don't see how you could convince me that you were right to do what you did. I-"
"-I'm not even going to attempt to argue I was right!... That's a conversation I might one day have with your mother, but not with you... With you, I-... I just want to explain why things happened the way that they did... I'm not asking for understanding, Emma... I'm just hoping for forgiveness. Maybe that's too much to ask for, and maybe I'm being too bold, but-... I can't let you go... Please. Just one day... Haven't I earned that much from you?"
"I-..."
"Emma, I love you."
The brunette states bluntly, her expression hard; drawn.
"And I want to love you!"
The Sheriff counters hoarsely, shaking her head as she pulls her hand from the darker woman's grip
"I do love you... But, I-... Regina... I've been screwed over too many times to-"
"-You love me. That's it. That's all that matters, and I refuse to let that change... Come, I'd like to go upstairs. I wish to show you something."