When Regina woke up it was with a sharp pain in her neck and both of her feet completely numb, their circulation having apparently been compromised by the weight resting atop her lap and the extraordinarily awkward angle of her body. Gingerly, she raised her head from the horrendous position it had found itself in while she slept, her neck muscles protesting even her slow, careful movements. It was going to take more than a hot shower to work out these kinks. Before she could dwell on her physical aches and pains too much, the memories of the utterly unexpected events of the previous evening came swimming back into the forefront of her mind. Almost instantly she felt a headache coming on, joining her existing list of ailments, only to be nearly forgotten when her still sleep bleary eyes settled on the long, blonde hair draped across her lap, a pale face nuzzled into her stomach and arms wrapped around her waist and gripping her with surprising strength despite the deep slumber their owner seemed to still be in.
"She's hardly moved all night, neither have you." She jerked slightly in surprise at the sound of her own voice, though ever so slightly deeper, coming from somewhere behind her left shoulder, causing a grumpy little groan to be emitted from the woman in her lap.
"If you insist on sneaking around like that I'm going to have to put a bell on you, Queenie." Regina grumbled, turning her gaze to watch as her no-longer that much darker self rounded the corner of the sofa and came fully into view.
"Sorry Dear, old habits I suppose." The Queen spoke with a casual wave of her hand and a smile dancing on her lips before her eyes fell on the sleeping savior and filled with a mix of kindness and confusion. "She was certainly in a state last night, what do you think that was about?"
Regina cocked her head to the side, considering the question and the distressed expression on the face of the woman clutching her like she was all that was keeping her from floating away.
"I'm not sure."
"Do you think it's about me, or us? We never did get the chance to tell her we'd...resolved things. Last she knew you were heading off to face your near certain demise at my hand." The Queen settled herself into the seat across the coffee table from them looking more than a little uncomfortable in what Regina only just now realized were her pajamas. She didn't seem able to sit still, her back was ram-rod straight, her legs crossed, and she kept pulling down on the satin button up top as if it were a corseted waistcoat.
"Hey." Regina caught her other half's line of sight and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Relax. I know this is all...new for you, but we'll figure it out." The Queen responded with a look that said she wasn't so sure, be she stilled her fidgeting fingers and leaned back in her seat ever so slightly. Regina returned her eyes to her lap and considered her next move for a moment before placing her hand on Emma's shoulder and giving a gentle shake, earning another grumble in response. She tried again, with a hint more force. "Come on Princess, time to wake up."
"Don't call me Princess" Emma's right eye peaked open to look at her. Regina chuckled.
"I promise not to do it again if you sit up this instant so I can begin restoring feeling to my feet." In a flash Emma's face went from casually grumpy to deer in the headlights as she became fully aware of her current position, and she rocketed up to her feet with such force that she banged the back of her calves into the coffee table and nearly tipped backwards over it before, with a subtle flick of her fingers, the Queen sent a bolt of magic to steady her. Emma whipped around, only just noticing the other woman in the room.
"Regina?!" She squeaked, hands coming up defensively, the glow of her magic already sparking across her fingertips. The Queen resisted the urge to stand and defend herself, but Regina noticed the way her hands had moved to the armrests, her grip so hard it turned her knuckles white.
"Emma wait." Regina stood, less than steady on her still tingling feet, and reached out a hand to wrap around Emma's upper arm. "It's ok. She's not...well, she's not the Evil Queen anymore. Not really."
"What?" Emma glanced over her shoulder at Regina looking utterly confused and like she was more than a little certain that Regina might have lost her mind. The Queen stood but didn't come closer, not wanting to tempt the Savior into firing off any of that pesky light magic in her direction.
"It's true, Emma." Emma whipped her head back to face her, her hands raising just a tad higher as she moved back a bit and placed herself between Regina and the Queen, poised to attack and defend her friend from the doppelganger who had spent the past couple of months trying her best to take her down. The Queen clenched her fists at her sides, willing herself not to go with her first instinct which so very much wanted to see her throw the Savior against the far wall, and instead awaited what she was sure was going to be a less than pleasant blast from the glimmering hands before her. But instead of launching some sort of attack, Emma began observing her with an intensity she had to fight not to squirm under, before cautiously lowering her hands.
"You're not, are you? The Evil Queen, I mean..." Emma was still staring at her as if trying to decipher a secret code as she spoke. "So what, you're just...?" The Queen bowed her head, tucking one leg behind the other and flourishing one arm out in front of herself while the other was bent and placed behind her back as she dipped into a shallow curtsy.
"Queen Regina Mills if you please, Princess." Watching from behind Emma, Regina couldn't help but cup her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her amusement at the sight of the once fearsome Queen bowing to her former enemy's daughter while wearing a set of grey satin pajamas. Emma let out a heavy sigh, bringing a hand up to run through her hair.
"Great, now I get to deal with two of you pushing my buttons."
"So that's it? You just...believe me?" The Queen looked shocked, and perhaps a little annoyed, that her literal change of heart was so readily accepted. Emma threw a look over her shoulder towards Regina before turning back and locking eyes with the Queen and shrugging.
"Well, yeah. Of course I believe you. You're Regina. You're my best friend." At that the Queen's jaw dropped almost comically, her hand fluttering to her stomach the way it did when she was feeling off-kilter. Regina finally lost her battle against the laughter she'd been stifling and the resulting giggle that broke forth was so unlike her that it only made her laugh harder. Emma's lips spread into a grin more genuine than had graced her face in months at that, watching as Regina attempted to compose herself and her other half tried to get her bearings on the whole situation.
As the duplicates pulled themselves together, the weight of the previous day found its way back to Emma shoulders and she felt her smile fall, replaced by her near omnipresent scowl and pinched brow. Regina saw the shift first, moving closer and again placing a hand almost hesitantly on Emma's shoulder. They stood in silence for a moment, the Queen looking at a loss for how she could help and Emma refusing to make eye contact with anything other than her sock-clad feet. It was Regina who broke the silence.
"Breakfast first. Then we can all get freshened up. Then we can talk." Emma gave her a grateful quirking of her lips and a nod of agreement, Regina knew she always felt at least a little better after a good meal. As the Queen exited the room, heading for the kitchen to start in on cooking Emma's favorite meal of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, Regina hung back, catching Emma's hand in her own and drawing her attention. "Whatever it is, Emma, I'm here for you. We'll figure it out. Together." She punctuated the last word with a gentle squeeze to the colder than they should be fingers clasped in her own.
"Thanks Regina. For last night, and this, and, well, just thanks."
"Of course."
"Regina?"
"Yes?"
"You do realize I'm gonna need more of an explanation about your evil twin, right?"
"She hardly evil, Emma. Not anymore. Or, not any more-so than I was when you first got here." Emma snorted at that.
"Oh goody, should I expect any showdowns with "Madame Mayor" in my future" Her exaggerated air quotes earned her a hearty eye roll from Regina before she gracefully turned on her heel and strutted out of the study, calling back to Emma,
"Not unless you do something as ill-advised as attacking an innocent fruit tree with a chain saw, Dear."
Again Emma found herself grinning despite the ache pounding away in her chest with every heart beat. She took a moment to remove her jacket, having apparently fallen asleep in it the night before, and folded both it and the blanket she'd woken up under neatly, placing them in a small pile on the far end of the sofa. A quick glance in the mirror told her she looked every bit as horrible as the past 24 hours had made her feel, but she couldn't bring herself to care enough try to do anything about it. Besides, there was no one around to impress. Normally she felt the need to try to at least look like she'd attempted to put some effort into her appearance when she was around the always photo-shoot ready Regina (though after everything they'd been through she wasn't sure why she bothered, Regina had no doubt seen her at her worst by now), but today was different. Afterall, one Regina was make-up less and wearing pajamas while the other was in the now extremely rumpled outfit she'd been wearing the day before, an outfit that Emma was fairly certain she'd drooled on in her sleep, so it wasn't like they were looking their usual polished selves either.
Upon entering the kitchen Emma found the two women, nearly identical except for the hair that, once out of her ridiculous up-dos, fell all the way down the Queen's back and well past her waist, working in perfect sync with one another, passing ingredients back and forth without so much as a word between them. A mug of coffee, which she knew was made just the way she liked it (strong, with a hearty scoop of hot cocoa mix added, a splash of half & half, a large swirl of whipped cream, and, of course, a dash of cinnamon to top it all off) was waiting in her favorite mug of Regina's (an old white mug with a couple of chips along the rim, painted with two bright blue handprints belonging to the then 4 year old Henry and the word "Mommy" scrawled in now fading yellow toddler scribble). She took the first sip gratefully, the warm liquid sliding down her throat as she closed her eyes and breathed in the comforting scents of food being prepared, the cinnamon from her coffee tickling her nose and reminding her of the way Regina's home always seemed to smell like fall to her. She remained as she was, drawing a sense of security from this home that had somehow become the most consistent and reliable place in her entire life. When she opened her eyes again and was reminded that there were now not one but two copies of her best friend bustling about the kitchen, a thought struck Emma that was possibly the least important thing to ask given this whole perplexing situation, but was also the only thing she had the brain power to handle contemplating just then.
"What I am supposed to call you?" Both women turned to regard her with matching questioning looks.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if she's not "evil" anymore then I can't called her "The Evil Queen". And having two of you around is going to be confusing enough without calling both of you Regina." The women looked at each other, seeming to ponder the question before they each turned back to her, heads tilted to one side and brows furrowed in dual looks of contemplation. The Queen spoke first as she turned back to the pancake batter sitting on the counter next to the stove and began to whisk it into a perfectly smooth, aerated concoction with practiced ease.
"I suppose, seeing as I am still a Queen, evil or not, you may refer to me as Your Majesty."
There was complete silence, save for the sound of the metal whisk clinking against the glass mixing bowl, for about 5 seconds before a burst of laughter spluttered from Emma's lips, spewing her most recent sip of coffee across the kitchen island and earning her another eye role and a dish towel tossed at her by Regina, who remained leaning with her back against the sink and her own coffee cradled in one of her hands and held against her chest. After wiping the coffee from the counter, and the dribbles that were running down her chin, Emma lobbed the towel playfully back at Regina who caught it effortlessly with her free hand.
"Look lady, you may have been royalty back in your land but there is no way I'm calling you Majesty." A disgruntled huff came from the woman at the stove before the first batch of pancakes began sizzling quietly in the pan and she turned to face Emma and Regina, looking more than a little offended.
"What do you propose, Miss Swan? Because, though I'm sure you don't see me as such, I am as much Regina as she is so I hardly think she has any more claim to the name than I do." Her head jerked towards the other Regina though she refused to look her way, and Emma could see the armor coming up around the Queen as she readied herself to be rejected, laughed at, or told she would never be the "real" Regina. Emma simply shrugged, hopping up to sit on the island, seeing out of the corner of her vision Regina's eyes narrow in frustration at her actions, having told her time and time again to sit in a chair like an adult rather than on the food prep surfaces. Before Regina could scold her, Emma pointed directly at her.
"Gina." And then her finger moved to point at the Queen,
"Regina."
"Excuse me?" Both women seemed slightly exasperated, the Queen looking more than a little surprised, and Regina looking slightly annoyed at her new nickname. Emma repeated her motions, pointing to Regina, then the Queen, her movements punctuated by the same almost shy, slightly crooked and oh so annoyingly endearing smile that she'd worn one fateful night many years previous.
"Gina, Regina. Simple."
Before she could duck, two dish towels were flying at her, one the same damp one from the sink that she'd cleaned up her coffee with, the other ever so slightly warm from having been resting near the stove.
"Idiot" echoed in stereo as both towels hit their mark, smacking her gently in the face.