Breakfast had been delicious, as it always was when Regina cooked, and the quiet while they ate was only half as awkward as it could have been considering the new dynamic between the three of them. The Queen, or Regina, as she had been dubbed be her apparent new best friend, was clearly the most uncomfortable with the whole set up, having never in her life shared a pleasant meal with family. Between the tinniest bites of her pancake, which she insisted on cutting up with a knife and fork and dipping delicately into a small bowl of syrup rather than slathering them in the sweet liquid and whipped cream and taking large chunks into her mouth the way Emma did, or buttering them lightly and adding fresh fruit before cutting off double layered triangles with just her fork the way Regina-or rather Gina-did, she kept glancing between them furtively and twitching in her seat. A hand landed on her thigh, stilling her and instantly causing the voice of her long-dead mother to sound from the recesses of her mind.

"Stop fidgeting Regina. A Queen does not show discomfort. You will sit still this instant or I will give you a reason to remember your manners."

The soft touch on her thigh was a stark contrast to the once cold fingers, often feeling more like talons as they would dig mercilessly into tender flesh. A gentle squeeze pulled her eyes to regard her other half, the emotions she found in them reflected her own, she was sure, and she knew that they were both reliving the same painful memory in that moment. Emma pretended not to notice the silent conversation going on between them, keeping her eyes on her food and allowing them the illusion of privacy. In the end, the Queen was the first to leave the table, excusing herself under the guise of wanting to shower so she could get out of the ridiculously common pajamas (which she was loathe to admit might actually be the most comfortable clothes she'd ever worn), abandoning more than half of her breakfast and leaving her plate ("A Queen does not do dishes, Miss Swan"). This whole thing was verging on being too much for her to handle and she found she simply couldn't muster an appetite with the churning in her stomach that had started shortly after Regina had pushed her heart, now almost equal parts black and red, back beneath her breastbone the previous evening.

After that Regina and Emma went about what was a familiar routine for them, though it had been a long time since they'd shared a post-sleepover meal, with Emma clearing the dishes from the table (after polishing off her own pancakes and the Queen's leftovers) and washing them before handing them over to Regina to dry and return to their proper places around the kitchen. Neither of them brought up the events of the night before, nor the question of how the Evil Queen had come to be a seemingly welcome houseguest rather than the nemesis she'd been less than a day prior. The Queen never returned to the kitchen, and eventually, with a soft touch to Emma's lower back, Regina left the room and headed upstairs to get ready for her day, having mentioned needing to check in with Henry who had spent the night at his Grandparent's house in order to help whichever one of them was awake with caring for little Neal. Emma smiled to herself, thinking of how her sweet, thoughtful boy had been staying with Snow and David a lot lately, offering to help in whatever way he could as they found themselves more-or-less operating as single parents. She was so lost in her thoughts as she headed back to the study to retrieve her leather jacket that she nearly walked into the woman exiting that very room.

"Jesus, sorry Regina!"

"You would do well to watch where you're going, Savior, you never know who might be around the next corner." She knew immediately that this was the Queen, and would have even without the attempt at a predatory look aimed her way. Her make-up was less severe than she normally wore it, but still, the eyeliner was thicker, the shadow darker, the lashes longer, and the lips redder than Regina had worn hers in years, and she'd managed to find the very dress Regina had worn the night Emma had met her and paired it with a black jacket that, though modern in cut, had suspiciously pointy shoulder pads. Emma also noticed that she was at least two inches shorter in comparison to the other woman which, given her natural height advantage, she wouldn't usually be even when barefoot, and a quick glance down at the Queen's feet, wrapped in a pair of 6 inch heels so shiny she could see her reflection in them, explained the discrepancy. Emma brushed past her, not giving her the satisfaction of showing even the slightest bit of intimidation.

"Enough with the "Savior" crap, Regina. And don't "Miss Swan" me either. I'm just Emma." She picked up her jacket and slid one arm in, swinging it over her shoulder and causing a round, metal object to slip out of the pocket and hit the floor with a thud. She bent to pick it up, recognizing it as Hook's old pocket watch, and froze. She wasn't sure what it was doing in her pocket, or how long it had been there, but it served as a painful reminder of what had brought her to the mansion the night before. The clicking of heels against wood let her know that Regina was approaching, but she couldn't move, couldn't stand up straight from her hunched position, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe against what felt like the emotional equivalent of a punch to the gut.

"Emma," for the second time that morning a hand was placed tenderly against her lower back, this one far more unsure in its motions but radiating just as much warmth. "What is it? Is it...are you alright?" The words came out in a tone that spoke volumes about how little experience the Queen had in comforting others, how truly out of her element she felt. It was funny, despite years of existing as half of Regina, half of a woman raising a son and learning to care about those around her, it was like it was the first time all over again. She had tried so hard to fight against the kinder, more loving Regina that she'd managed not to learn much at all from the many lessons in how love could be more of a strength than a weakness, more of a gift than a curse. So here she was, looking at a woman she had spent weeks enjoying hurting and toying with, and finding her heart clenching in her chest in response to the obvious pain radiating off of Emma, desperately wanting to be able to make it go away. Emma cleared her throat, finally managing to straighten back up, and turned to face her, tears swimming in her eyes.

"Hook left. He killed David's father. He lied to me about it, and when I confronted him, he left." A lone tear escaped and ran down her cheek, her fist coming up to brush it away harshly, tilting her head back slightly and shaking it as if trying to dry up the rest of the offending droplets. She cleared her throat again, coughing against the sadness squeezing her throat like an unseen hand. "Anyway, I gotta get to work. Still got a fairy to stop and a prophecy to beat." She attempted a wry smile but it came out as more of a grimace. She was almost to the door before the Queen found her voice again.

"Emma?"

"Hmm?"

"I told you you were too good for him." Emma's eyebrows raised, regarding her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "What? You thought little miss "sacrifice herself on the altar of other people's happiness" was the one talking in that moment? Like she ever would have had the nerve to tell you that and risk messing up your happy ending. Oh no Dear, that was all me." She felt her confidence returning as slid into a familiar teasing role, that is until Emma's eyes hardened, her posture growing stiff.

"I guess you got what you wanted then, your Majesty," she spit out the epithet as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, "Even the Savior doesn't get a happy ending in this story. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try to stop my impending murder, though I imagine that would really wrap up things in a nice little bow for you wouldn't it?" With that she was storming down the walkway, having swung the front door so hard that it ricocheted off the wall and slammed shut behind her. The Queen was stunned, feeling rather like she might vomit and completely at a loss for what to do. Should she chase after Emma? What could she possibly say to make her feel better? It's not like she was wrong, just yesterday she would have been cackling with glee over this turn of events but now...now all she felt was sorrow, and a deep and confusing longing where Emma Swan was concerned.

"What the hell did you do?" Regina's near shriek from the staircase behind her startled her, causing her to spin around and face her other half who was looking at her with equal parts disappointment and exasperation.

"I didn't, I just, I was trying to..." Regina's expression softened to something closer to pity, or perhaps it was understanding and she was just reading it wrong, as she watched her stumble over her words in a truly un-Queen-like manner. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and tugged at the bottom of her coat before bringing one up to move her long brown hair back over her shoulder with an exaggerated swoop. Regina descended the stairs, her own outfit choice surprising similar to the Queen's, though more muted and subtle in its elegance.

"What was it that set her off?"

"Hook left her."

"And that's way she slammed my door so hard she nearly shattered the windows?" A perfectly sculpted brown arched accusingly in her direction. Regina clearly wasn't buying that Emma's anger had been aimed at anyone other than her.

"That, yes, and I may have told her that it was me who told her she was too good for him back in the underworld because you would never have said something to get in the way of her fairytale romance."

"I imagine she took that about as well as could be expected."

The Queen hung her head, her shoulders sagging in a truly atypical slouch.

"I'm not very good at this am I?"

"Hmm, it seems not. Truth be told, neither am I." Regina caught her under her chin and raised her head to look into her eyes. "You'll learn. We both will." She patted her on the shoulder before moving past and scooping up her purse and house keys. "Don't worry, I'll fix things with Emma. Can you just please stay here for the day and try not to cause any trouble? We can sort out what to tell everyone about your...our...change of heart once we get her back on her feet, for now the last thing we need is the Charmings, or anyone else in this town, thinking you've somehow cast some sort of a spell on Emma and I and have us under your thrall."

The Queen nodded her agreement, not one to enjoy being cooped up however she was feeling so tumultuously vulnerable that the last thing she wanted to do was put herself at the mercy of a town full of people who saw her as nothing more than the very embodiment of Regina's worst qualities. She didn't trust them to see the change in her, nor did she trust herself to show it to them if given the chance. Regina was just about to close the door behind her when she called out,

"Regina, wait."

"Yes?" Regina was paused, one foot over the threshold, one hand on the doorknob, turned halfway back towards her expectantly. Without thinking the Queen moved forward, surprising them both when she wrapped her arms around Regina's neck and pulled her into a tight embrace. A startled gasp slipped from Regina's lips, an awkward moment passing before she brought her own arms to wrap around the Queen's waist. The feeling of holding the other was somehow foreign and the most natural thing all at once, both sets of dark eyes falling shut as their breathing synced up and the world around them faded away. After what could have been 10 minutes or 30 seconds, neither could say, they pulled apart without a word, each wearing matching sheepish expressions.

"Take care of her Regina."

"I will."

"Take care of yourself too."

"I will."

Their hands, which had linked after the hug was broken, finally let go of one another. Regina gave her a knowing smile and squinted her eyes in teasing seriousness.

"You. Be. Good."

"I will. I'll try."