Taking heed of the Sheriff's request, Regina pushes herself up and moves around the low coffee table so that she can take a seat next to her. She offers Emma a curious glance as she does so; the proffered space somewhere between the size of a large armchair and a small sofa, and a rather snug fit for two. Her hip presses against the blonde's comfortably, and she raises a brow when Emma slouches down in the seat to get comfortable; subsequently leaning against the soft wool of her coat companionably.
"Dear... Do you think this is appropriate?... I mean, as we're out, and, well... This..."
"I think it's New York, and no one would bat an eyelid if I gave you cause to struggle for breath right now."
Emma replies with a faint smile; her muscles tense and her head pounding due to recent events, but vaguely aware that Regina has momentarily taken on the role of 'stammering innocent' and finding the fact to be endearingly amusing.
"Oh."
"But, I'm afraid it'll have to wait."
"You have a story you need to tell me first."
"Yeah..."
The younger woman nods pensively, but she seems at a loss of where to start exactly and so simply sips at her coffee in silence. Leaning forward to pick up the cup that had been waiting for her on the table, the Mayor settles back so that the blonde can sink into her comfortably again; long curls catching on the side of her coat.
"You knew that man... Gold's son..."
Regina prompts gently, taking a sip of hot, strong coffee and wondering if it really is the best cappuccino she's ever tasted, or if it just seems that way because Emma bought it for her.
"Yes. His name's Neal... Well, it is here, anyway."
"Okay. Neal... So, when did you meet him?"
"When I was about seventeen. My car - my bug - that's how we met."
"How's that?"
"I tried to steal it. He'd already stolen it... Quite the romantic tale, no?"
"... So... You were together?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, god..."
The brunette groans, before catching the guarded expression with which the Sheriff studies her and shaking her head apologetically.
"I don't mean because of you and me. I mean because, well, it's Gold's son. The Dark One's son!"
"Then I agree with your 'oh god' and raise you a 'holy shit'."
Emma mutters darkly, her gaze cast thoughtfully down to her cup before she offers it to the Mayor to taste as promised.
"Regina, do you think he knew? Gold, I mean."
She asks quietly.
"No... No, I don't think so. I imagine he'd have gone about things a little differently if he'd known the two of you shared a history."
"But, I mean-... It can't just be a coincidence. For Neal and I to have crossed paths before, and to have- ... It's crazy, right?"
"It is, but I can't offer you any other explanation, dear. Some things - a lot of things - in both of our lives are a result of Rumplestiltskin's foresight, but he always said when he taught me that fate plays a hand... A cruel one in this case."
"Yeah..."
The blonde muses quietly.
Regina sighs; Emma's storytelling technique is lacklustre, to say the least, but she knows the younger woman well enough by now to be aware that the fact that they're sitting here discussing recent adverse discoveries at all is a huge step for both of them in itself. Taking a sip from the coffee she accepts from slim fingers, she winces at its immense sweetness and hands it back to the Sheriff who rubs her thumb pensively over the lipstick smear left on the white plastic.
"Is that why you were in jail, then? For stealing the car?"
She asks.
"No... No, Neal wanted to shift some stolen watches. He had it all planned out. We were going to take the money and find somewhere to live - a proper place to live - in Tallahassee."
"Why Tallahassee?"
"Why not?... It was stupid, really. Kid's stuff."
The blonde sniffs, and the Queen frowns but keeps her opinion that it sure doesn't sound like stupid kid's stuff to the Sheriff to herself.
"You got caught?"
"He told me to meet him while the watches were still hot, but he never showed up."
"Oh."
"The cops did."
"They didn't believe you that it was all his idea?"
"I didn't tell them it was all his idea."
"Why not?"
"Because... I was seventeen, and-... I-..."
Emma trails off, and Regina sighs as she turns her head to regard the blonde; the latter casting her gaze up towards the ceiling, and the Mayor imagines the sheen of tears that trembles precariously between her waterline and her lashes to be her reason for doing so.
"You loved him."
She finishes for the Sheriff.
"I told him so, yes... But, whatever, that was a long time ago."
"It doesn't matter! Emma, please, you're allowed to feel the way you must do now, whether it's a case of a couple of weeks, or, as in this instance, a little over eleven years, it's-... Oh..."
This last syllable is much lower, and the blonde closes her eyes as she feels the darker woman tense up beside her; a tear escaping from clamped lashes to splash onto the back of her hand unnoticed.
"Regina..."
"Henry."
"Please don't hate me..."
The Sheriff whispers, shaking her head nervously as the brunette pushes herself up from their shared seat and brushes down her coat with trembling fingers.
"Excuse me, I believe I'm about to be sick."
"No, no, Regina, please! You can't leave me here like this!"
Emma begs, and she's bemused to find that this is perhaps the first and only time that she couldn't give a shit about sounding weak and desperate, as right now, that's exactly what she's feeling.
"Emma, please, I need to go."
"No!"
The blonde pleads, but the Queen shakes her head distractedly and hurries for the door with a slightly awkward gait; nothing like her usual delicate grace. The Sheriff begins to move to chase after her, but when the glass door of the cafe swings shut behind the brunette and narrowly avoids hitting her in the face, she stumbles to a halt; her breath shallow and frantic as she struggles to quell the most uncharacteristic urge to start crying right in the middle of Starbucks.
Swallowing thickly, she rubs a palm roughly across her cheek to vanquish the few tears that have escaped despite her best efforts and pulls her coat closer to her slim frame before pushing open the door and stalking out into the street just in time to catch the Mayor's dark hair whipping in the wind before she slips into the shelter of the motel.
"Fuck..."
She mutters under her breath, nibbling her lip anxiously as her shoulders droop in defeat.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Glancing up sharply, she spies a man who comes out of the glass doors through which she's just left sporting a politely concerned smile.
"I'm fine."
She assures him; wondering if she actually ever will be again.
"Breakups are tough, huh?... That's too bad."
"I'm fine!"
She repeats warningly, eyes flashing as he comes to a stop beside her; a little closer than she would have liked.
"If you say so, sweetheart... Still, you don't look like a dyke. If you like it both ways, maybe I could help take your mind off-"
She is unable to decipher the rest, as it comes out as little more than a pained howl; ruddy hands covering an even ruddier nose where the Sheriff's fist has made smart contact.
She looks around them for anyone running over to put a stop to their little altercation, but, as she's told the brunette countless times; this is New York, and - save for a few people stopping on their various errands in hopes of catching a full-blown show - the world keeps on going about its business as usual.
"Bitch..."
This she is able to catch, and she throws the man a withering glance, noting the small dribble of blood that has begun to seep slowly through his fingers towards his wrist.
Tossing her hair back, she stalks towards the motel; musing as she goes that she may never feel 'fine' again, but she does feel a little bit better now.
"Regina?"
The blonde knocks softly on the Queen's motel door; any lingering adrenalin from her surge of aggression now fully depleted, leaving her red-eyed and miserable. She leans against the wall as she waits for an answer, before moving around and placing her arm high up on the door and hitting her forehead a few times gently against the flaking paint.
Sniffing, she pushes herself back up and turns away, before a voice heralds her from within the room.
"Emma?... Is that you?"
"Yeah."
"... Come on in, then."
"It's locked."
"It's not now."
"It is, you need a-... Oh... Never mind."
She murmurs with slow realisation as she pushes open the door despite the fact it should be impossible to do so without a key. Padding hesitantly into the room, she surveys her surroundings sombrely and finds no sign of the darker woman, thus concluding her to be in the adjoining bathroom. Moving over to stand in the doorway, she regards the Mayor warily as the latter reciprocates from her reclined position in the narrow bathtub.
Regina takes in wet lashes and peaky features and sighs.
"Sorry about that... I told you. I needed to be sick."
She explains weakly, and the Sheriff hesitates for just a moment, before nodding in understanding and slinking a little further into the bathroom. Giving in to the exhaustion that eats at her from inside, she slides down the wall to sit with her knees up by her chin with her arms hugged around them tightly.
"...Do you hate me?"
She asks quietly; speaking to the mat on the floor rather than to the woman in the bath. The brunette looks up sharply from her contemplation of the bubbles that coat the surface of her bathwater, regarding the younger woman sternly.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
"I don't-... I just-... Because of Henry..."
The Sheriff chokes nonsensically, and the Mayor sighs heavily as she looks down at the shallow graze colouring the smooth skin of her knee.
"Of course I don't hate you... Emma, you've had to take in an impossible amount of bizarre and simply insane information over the past year, and put up with a whole lot of drama you didn't even really understand. You've found out a lot of things that confused you, shocked you and hurt you... I just wasn't expecting to have to do the same today... It was a lot to take, and it wasn't a pleasant revelation. Gold has had so much unwanted influence over my life, but it's only over the last couple of weeks that I've come to understand the magnitude of just how twisted his hold over me has been all this time, so to discover yet another abhorrent tie with the man, just-... It's a lot, as you well know... Still, I'll tell you another thing. The next time I say a word about your drinking or your irritable tendencies, you have my full permission to tell me where I can shove it, to use your term of phrase..."
She hopes for a giggle, but she gets little more than a watery sniff of amusement, which she supposes she'll still gladly take.
"I don't hate you, dear."
She repeats quietly.
"That's too bad... You were so good at it..."
The blonde murmurs glumly into the denim of her jeans, and Regina smiles wearily and closes her eyes.
"I'm good at lots of things."
"I know, and you don't let me forget it..."
Emma sighs, before looking up at the Queen solemnly.
"I'm sorry, Regina."
She confides in a hollow voice, and the brunette rolls her eyes with feigned irritation despite the fact that several tears roll down her cheeks to taint her bathwater. Shaking her head, she addresses the Sheriff sternly.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Emma."
"I just-... I don't know what to do..."
And then the choked rasp to her voice really does break into miserable sobbing and she buries her face into her knees. Leaning over a little awkwardly, the Mayor wipes her hand a few times on the soft wool of the younger woman's sweater before petting the blonde's hair gently. She imagines she's doing so in a way similar to how one might stroke a dog, but her position makes it difficult to offer up any alternative comfort, and she doesn't think Emma minds. Waiting for the Sheriff's crying to die down into the occasional exhausted sniff, she speaks softly as the blonde turns her head to the side - long lashes drawn and wet - and makes gentle circles with her thumb at the latter's temple.
"You don't have to do anything, dear... It is what it is; you can't change it... We'll talk to Gold and see where we stand... It's your choice, Emma, but I really think you need to speak to this 'Neal' and explain just what it is that he did to you, if only so that you can ask him why the hell he did it. For your own peace of mind!... And, I think-... I think we'll have to tell Henry... But, then, there's probably a few things we need to tell Henry..."
"What do you mean?"
Tense. Anxious. Wary.
The brunette pays this no mind, simply continuing to run her fingers through dishevelled curls.
"I mean that you're a grown woman living with her parents, and maybe you should think about moving out to live with your child."
"Regina... Are you suggesting..."
"You know what I'm suggesting. It simply makes sense. We can figure this all out, dear. I love you, and Henry loves you... The rest? It will fall into place... This trip has been pure hell, Miss Swan, but I still enjoyed being with you... I've learnt a lot of things today, Emma, but I think if I'm going to ponder on any of them, I'd like that to be the one... Now get out of the way; this water is growing cold and there's no room for me to dry myself off with you sat there taking up half the bathroom."
She admonishes, suddenly stern, giving the younger woman an amiable pat on the head before shooing her away; the Sheriff chuckling throatily as she pushes herself to her feet and heads out the door to wait in the bedroom.
Regina smirks as she wipes away the saltwater tracking her cheeks along with the rest; feeling suddenly lighter than she has done since they got to this hellhole. Studying herself curiously in the mirror, she shakes out her hair and folds her towel around herself primly before stepping into the bedroom with a smile.
She finds Emma standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with her arms outstretched and she walks into them swiftly; burying her face into the younger woman's sweater and breathing in the latter's favoured scent of soft honey beneath the mixture of harsher smells that cling to her from the outside world.
"Just so you know... I'm not good with words like you are... But I agree with everything you said..."
Emma mumbles against her shoulder.
"Good, that's a great start to any cohabiting relationship; total and complete compliance and worship."
"I think you may have twisted my words just slightly."
"It's not my fault you struggle to form a coherent sentence."
"Actually, I don't like you. I want to move out..."
The Sheriff mutters, and the brunette laughs, pressing her lips against the blonde's firmly.
"You taste like salt."
"What are you trying to say?!"
The younger woman cries with mock offence to try and hide her awkwardness, but the act is a little flawed as her eyes are still a telling shade of pink and her cheeks are stained with tear tracks.
"I'm saying I think you should go wash your face, dear."
"Fine."
"Really? That's it? No argument? You've changed."
"No. In fact, give me a minute to sort myself out and try and pull a brush through my hair."
"Oh? What's the occasion?"
The Mayor inquires with a smirk, and the blonde offers a long-suffering sigh that has the former chuckling darkly.
"Well, I've done what Gold asked me to do. And, I know he's going to have questions, and I know I should probably talk to him, and I know things are far from sorted and all of that, but fuck it!... I did my part, and he can just damn well wait... I've had enough for one day."
"Ah, and you want good hair to suit your new, brazen, devil-may-care attitude?"
"As I was saying - though I'm beginning to wonder why I'd want to - I do believe that earlier I told you I would show you around town once we found Baelfire... Well. We found him... So..."
"We did. Now ask me properly."
"Huh?"
"You're asking me out on a date, do it properly."
"Shit, Regina, you want me to get down on one knee, too?"
"Oh, I'd like that very much, dear."
"... Twenty minutes. Get dressed."
"A date? A date with Emma Swan? Why yes, I'd love to!"
"You're lucky you're hot."
"And I love you, too, dear."