Regina bends down to collect Henry's book which had tumbled to the floor a few hours earlier following her plea for understanding from the blonde. She tests its weight in her hands pensively before looking up from the cover to study the Sheriff with a small smirk.
She had finally managed to force Emma into the shower as insisted, but had remained politely outside the door; perching on the bed with a tired yawn. She had reckoned on the blonde wishing to clean herself scrupulously following her ordeal with the pawnbroker, and had been intuitively aware that the younger woman might not want an audience while doing so. She'd begun to worry just a little as the minutes had ticked steadily by, but eventually, the pounding of the water and the hum of the pipes had ceased, and finally, Emma had reappeared to lean in the doorway; her skin flushed an angry red and her face comparatively pale. Cracking a wide yawn, the blonde had rested her head against the doorframe until Regina had ordered her firmly to get into bed.
Which is where she lies now with her hair a sodden mess, hiding her face, her pale limbs drawn in close and clad in one of Henry's larger t-shirts. The Queen sighs. She had padded into her son's room following Emma's raised brow at the satin nightdress held out for her to borrow and had fetched the younger woman one of his shirts without even thinking about it.
And, now that she is thinking about it, she finds she's-... Well, she's okay with it.
And logically, why shouldn't she be? All of the poisonous bickering and proclamation from either side of "he's my son" had been the result of a fear that the boy should be taken away by the other.
She doesn't think Emma's going anywhere.
Not now. Not after all that's happened.
The subject of Henry still makes her uneasy, but she finds that rather than the hateful anger she had tried to banish when she had first started caring for the blonde, she feels only a quiet nervousness. Perching on the edge of the bed, she brushes damp curls away from the blonde's face and smirks when the younger woman doesn't react in the slightest to the intrusion; sound asleep.
Mary Margaret smiles as she ascends gently from sleep. It's a curious thing to have Charming slumbering beside her, but it's a beautiful thing more than anything else. She kisses his bare shoulder lightly before slipping from beneath the sheets. Grinning as she spots Henry curled up in the overstuffed armchair - the hazy morning light illuminating his face as he sleeps soundly - she allows herself a moment to dwell on just how blessed she is considering how things have turned out.
She has her Charming, her daughter, her grandson.
She's finally won.
She resists the urge to climb the steps to the blonde's bedroom, knowing that despite the change in herself, Emma remains much the same, and is neither a morning person, nor one to appreciate the brimming wealth of emotions she wishes to bestow upon her. The notion appears moot anyway, as she spots a scrap of paper lying on the dining room table.
MM,
Regina called about trouble. Have gone to check it out.
E x
The schoolteacher frowns down at the note. She's pleasantly surprised that Emma has had the courtesy to leave her one at all; the Sheriff often forgetting that she has a friend who worries about her.
A mother that worries about her.
Not only has the blonde taken the time to leave her a scrap of messy scrawl, but she feels a sweet hum of happiness fill her chest as her gaze returns repeatedly to the small x that finishes the note. She can count the times Emma has ended her texts or messages with a kiss on one hand, and the fact that she should do so now, following the palpable tension that had existed between them the previous evening, is not something she shrugs away lightly.
My little girl...
She thinks back to Emma grumbling at her for her choice of term of endearment and shakes her head in bemusement. It brings her back to the subject of the note, and she feels a regretful twinge of disquiet building low down in her stomach.
She hasn't quite managed to get her head around Emma and Regina... Well... Yes... And wonders if she ever will. She feels what she knows is an immature sense of irritation towards the blonde that she should pick the Queen, of all people, to bond with. It suits the younger woman's contrary personality beautifully, she'll admit, but she finds it hard to see the amusing side of such irony.
"Oh, Emma, why would you go over there alone now that she has magic?!"
She scolds herself for such thoughts - and isn't it curious that it is in the Sheriff's voice that she does so? - taking a resigned seat at the table and fidgeting with the note with a sigh. In spite of everything that has happened between Regina and herself - the Queen and herself - she knows that she's wrong for the fear that finds her heart. Regina had saved her daughter, Emma had said so herself. She had saved her, and she had fretted over her, and she had cried over her.
She kissed her...
She had kissed her when she must have known that doing so might break the Curse; a Curse that could only be broken if the love was true on either side.
Emma loves her...
No.
Emma loved her.
But, what now? Now that the Curse has broken?
She sighs, wondering what in the world David will make of all this when she tells him, but she's wise enough in herself to know that love is not something that ebbs and fades in time with the pleasures and hardships of life. Especially for one so stubborn as the Sheriff.
She loves her.
And she supposes that's why she isn't halfway to the Queen's mansion right now full of terror for the blonde. She does feel a small amount of dread, and she does feel the uncomfortable urge to drag her daughter back home where she can keep an eye on her, but she chalks both of these notions down to maternal instinct.
How curious, to be able to say that...
She's confident that the darker woman poses no threat, at least when it comes to Emma.
Which begs the question of what kind of 'trouble' has come to pass.
She imagines she has some idea of exactly what kind of trouble the Evil Queen might find herself in.
There is something alarmingly, well, homely about the situation the blonde finds herself in, and she struggles to swallow her cereal as her throat closes up with ingrained fear at the notion. Winning the battle with her Cheerios, she sucks on the tip of her spoon thoughtfully as she studies Regina across the table.
The brunette has her attention cast down to her plate where she cuts up a honeydew melon into small, bite-sized pieces, her thick hair slightly mussed and looking disarmingly pretty in a simple cream blouse. Feeling the Sheriff's curious gaze upon her, Regina looks up and offer's the younger woman a smile as she holds out an offering of sweet fruit.
"Thanks."
Emma murmurs, and she nods in response, bringing a piece of melon to her lips and tasting it pensively. They have said little to one another since the blonde had awoken and stated she was 'hungry enough to eat her own hands', but it has not been an uncomfortable silence, and her smile widens as she continues to study hellishly tousled hair and pale, bare features over her son's faded t-shirt.
"So, uh... Are we going to put Mr Gold in jail or something?"
Emma asks as she licks a trail of juice from her thumb.
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know... I don't really know what I should want. I mean, he's a wizard, right? Won't he be able to get out?"
The blonde reasons uncomfortably, and Regina smiles; nodding in agreement as she finds the Sheriff's clueless attempt to address the ways of magic peculiarly endearing.
"Correct, dear."
"Then why did we-..."
"Why cuff him to the bed?"
"Yeah."
"I suppose as a form of retribution. Rumplestiltskin is many things, but not one of those is dim-witted. The parallel between regaining consciousness in such a position and what he did to you won't have been lost on him. He's a dangerous man, dear, as you well know, but I am dangerous, too... And it's not just me, don't forget."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if it were a case of simply going up against me, then he would likely have little issue... But in doing so, he goes up against you... Your family... These people, Emma, the people of Storybrooke, I brought them here to suffer. They were your parent's people. They would take great issue with Gold if he were to go up against their royals. The man is powerful, make no mistake, but so is the anger of the masses."
"So, what do we do?"
"That's for you to decide. If you want him incarcerated, there are ways to do so, but they aren't easy, and they're time-consuming, so we may find ourselves in danger... Unfortunately, we can't just rid ourselves of him, as he's the Dark One."
"Rid our-... You mean kill him? We're not killing him, Regina!"
"No... But after what he did to you..."
The brunette thins her lips as her expression says the rest, and the Sheriff swallows, glancing down at the scars encircling her wrists before addressing the darker woman with a frown.
"I-... Look. Help me understand something. Everyone I knew before The Curse broke... They made sense, you know?"
"I'm not following you."
"Well, I mean, like Mary Margaret is Snow White. In all the stories of Snow White, she's kind and loved and charitable and stuff. Mary Margaret is like that, too... And Granny, and Ruby, and David. They all kind of 'fit', you know?... Will Gold?"
"How do you mean?"
"Will Rumplestiltskin possess the same qualities as Gold?"
"It's different with him, dear, for it appears that the Curse never affected him as it did the others."
"Then they're the same! Just, now he has his powers back, or whatever. But they're the same person, right?"
"I suppose. Why?"
"Well... I kind of liked Gold... And I think he liked me."
"What on earth do you mean by that?"
The brunette's voice is hard and stony, and Emma swiftly elaborates to ease the tension.
"I mean that he and I had a mutual tolerance for each other that bordered on amusement."
"I see... I presume this is before he drugged you, kidnapped you, and cuffed you all but naked to a bed?"
"Regina..."
"No, no, continue, I'm dying to know where this is all going, dear!"
"Look... Just for the record, I asked him to take my dress off, because I was fucking burning up... My point is, he went to all that trouble because of a stupid fucking deal he made with me that he wanted me to make good on."
"So?"
"So, I want to know what he wants."
"Why?!"
"Because whatever it is made him desperate enough to do what he did-"
"-Emma! He did what he did because he's a monster! He's the Dark One! He-"
"-I know! But what harm does it do to ask?"
"... You want to find Gold... The Dark One... And ask him how you might be of service!?"
"Well, yeah."
"Unbelievable."
Regina shakes her head, flipping her palms to the ceiling in a gesture of despair as the Sheriff regards her awkwardly.
"I just-... If we can nip this in the bud and give him what he wants, then maybe he'll leave us alone. And, Regina... I love you, and I'm sitting here with you eating a bowl of fucking Cheerios despite everything I know... Maybe Gold has some good in him, too."
"Oh, God..."
"I'm not being stupid!"
"No. You're being your mother."
"Oh, shut up, I-"
But, the blonde is saved from whatever punishment such words might usually earn her as a loud rap on the front door echoes through the kitchen. Dark eyes flash suddenly with fear, and the Sheriff bites her lip as she pushes herself up from the table.
"Are you going to get that?"
Emma whispers, moving so that she stands close to the brunette; her expression grave and her jaw clenched. Regina glances at her nervously for a second before sighing and walking towards the door.
"I can't hide in this house forever."
She reasons, sounding much more confident than she feels.
"Do you want me to get it?"
The younger woman offers, catching her up, and Regina shakes her head as she gives the blonde a pointed look up and down.
"Miss Swan, you are currently clad in my son's t-shirt and my lingerie, I don't think you getting the door is going to be giving off the right message, do you?"
"I'm just trying to help!"
"I know, dear... I know."
Coming to a halt in front of the door, the brunette raises her voice and barks authoritatively
"Who's there?"
Silence.
"Answer me."
The Queen places a hand warningly at the blonde's elbow as the latter moves to stand in front of her.
"Answer me, who's there!?"
"It's me..."
Recognising her intruder's voice, the brunette shares a cautious glance with the Sheriff before resting her hand on the doorknob.
"I suggest you go and get your jeans, dear."