~thirteen years ago~

Emma finds a window to have some peace and quiet after the long days of mostly stress. Every Friday she walks into Storybrook High's gymnasium throwing her backpack on the center of the court and lies letting her head rest on it. It has easily become the single place where she can have a well deserved break from her father constantly uttering she's not doing anything right, or Mary Margaret's pity, or Regina and her crass pranks.

In all fairness she has to admit that even though Regina has been a complete jerk since they accidentally clashed on her first school day the brunette did give her a break lately. Maybe kicking Humbert in the guts was worth something after all.

She feels overwhelmed with the silence. It sets the perfect mood for letting her mind flow free and transporting her to before. Before she was alone. Before she had to move into a house where she probably would never feel welcomed and home. Before when it was still just Mom and Emma, dynamic duo. Her mom was no doubt her greatest supporter, so sure Emma could and would achieve anything. Even when she came home with the insane idea of having her own airplane, and flying anywhere they wanted. Together. The first time they went to the airport just to seat by and watch the planes take flight with two mugs of cocoa and the cinnamon sticks drowning was by far her favorite memory.

"Hey."

The careful whisper takes Emma by assault even with all its chariness to avoid startling her. She jump sits in relief, stress and surprise as her eyes find Regina staring down and for the first time Emma feels that she sees the girl. Wiped face. Maybe she just forgot to put on her facade of popular mean girl. And Emma decides that this Regina could be someone she'd be friend.

"I sorta need to use the space." Regina basically asks her. Politely asks. And Emma is just simply dumbfound as the tension building up starts to fill the giant voids through the court and she's far too confused to react and say something. She doesn't move until Regina clears her throat asking with a bit more stately tone, "Please?" And Emma rushes up picking her backpack walking away with her ungainly loss of words.

"I," Emma's hands are sweating when freezes, "could use some help training."

What is sure the worse stuttering case of Emma's life follows, and she makes few attempts at full sentences but it's as if she knows how to start them and has no clue how to properly finish, her words trampling.

Emma is so focused on talking and completely failing it she just notices Regina's closeness when they are just a step away and a firm grip has her arms, "Emma?" Regina is concerned. Regina is concerned with her?

Emma finally shakes her head back to reality, "I'm not really good at-"

"Lying?" Regina offers removing her grip, "Because I know you are pretty decent with PE classes. Probably played for a school team or something like that." So Regina's been noticing her, probably searching for ways of making her life hell, "You come here every Friday and that's pretty much the only minutes you smile the whole week." Or not.

~present time~

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Emma fights back the eye roll with a self-control she didn't know she had in her.

Mary Margaret is being overprotective again even though they both are very aware of Emma being out of her teens and into her thirties. She can take care of herself and recognize her own limitations just fine.

A last check, knee and elbow pads at place and helmet securely tied. Emma's surprised those babies lasted all of thirteen years. Though not as much as she is with the current state of her board, not single extra scratch line, just as she left it.

Her sister keeps glaring at everything she does, as if would be enough to make Emma change her mind about roam through Storybrook using this old junk. Emma bets she's eating herself inside for insisting that passing by the house they shared during senior year would be the greatest idea ever. Mary Margaret tries talking her out of it one last time and Emma reminds that she wouldn't have to do this if Mary Margaret herself didn't go around offering her as a possible teacher for Henry and Regina wasn't out her right mind. But Emma still uselessly tries calming her sister promising to be extra careful. She just wants to know if she can actually handle this. And it must be just like riding a bike, would just comeback to her.

"I have a question." Emma announces to take Mary Margaret's mind out of the skateboard, "Why are you selling this house? I mean it's a huge house you could probably move in with David and raise your children there. Maybe have a dog or a thousand birds or a whole zoo." She bursts into laughter. Mary Margaret is a very close fan of birds, she loves waking up to them singing. Emma can't stand it.

Mary Margaret embraces herself and turns to face the perfectly maintained green lawn, she loved walking circles barefoot after the sprinklers turned off, she felt alive. And the balanced mix between sun like yellow and sky like blue of the three storey house. "I carry the dearest memories of my time living here. Most of my childhood I spent here and teenage," She just eyes Emma knowingly, "Every time I had to enter this place for the last few years I'd leave devastated, each time hurt a little more until it was unbearable. And that is not how I want to remember him, you know? Dad was not easy to get along, but I know he was trying his best. And that's what I want to remember him by; someone who's tried their best and kept me safe and loved."

"I'm sorry," Emma sincerely says wishing she shared her sister's feelings but unable to do so, "I'm sorry I don't feel the same way," For the first time she saw tears falling and wetting Mary Margaret's reddened cheeks and what she felt wasn't the urge to run away hiding until everything was back to normalcy. Instead Emma gently enfolds her hoping this would bring her sister comfort and maybe compensate for the emotions couldn't feel.

"He disapproved it right away when I told him David and I were not keeping the house," Mary Margaret manages to speak through soft sobs.

"I would love to see that. Leopold Blanchard's favorite daughter rebelling against him."

Mary Margaret pulled herself out of the embrace just enough to face Emma properly and was happy with the glint of pride sparkling in Emma's eyes, "You know there was this huge picture of you in uniform hanging on his home office. I keep it at the apartment, I want to find the perfect place to hang it so that my kids know their aunt was a decorated air force pilot. Who's an asshole for never coming to visit them."

Emma doesn't hold back the eye roll this time, but her annoyance is torn apart with the barked laugh that escapes her mouth, "You are not pregnant though, right?"

Mary Margaret punches Emma's shoulder softly leaving the hug to clean up the tears and Emma is ready to roll.

"Wish me good luck," Emma feels the excitement making her heart beat faster.

She rolls fast enough so that her hair flows back following the wind under the helmet, she feels exhilarating, this is something she hasn't experienced in a long time. The feeling of doing something that brought a hint of danger but also fulfillment. She missed this. She missed it so much.

The streets are empty, and Mifflin St. is just the next corner. She swings left to make a turn and the board goes faster, Emma remembers most of the houses, but what calls her attention is the classic Mercedes parked about a block away. She regrets her decision to stick with the VWs. But rolling closer she sees the unbelievably beautiful white mansion behind tall trees. Leopold's house was nothing compared to-

Regina!

Emma's brain alerts her for the Mayor walking out the porch. Regina moved here? Emma just assumed Regina was still living with her parents. Or maybe they just moved to a bigger house, the Mills' appreciate staying fit on the top of their game. Emma's head follow Regina as the Benz beep unlocking. Regina owns a classic Benz? Who's she tryi-

The sidewalk is too close when Emma turns back to the road, and proving she isn't immune to the laws of physics the skate's blocked at the kerb but she continues to topple and just before landing she uses her right leg to avoid a flat fall. That's a huge mistake. She delays the fall, but the ache she experiences is an expensive price to pay.

And of course Regina would come to the rescue. A recipe for disaster that is Emma would never miss a chance at adding some extra spice into the mix.

"Are you alright, Emma?" Emma hears as Regina walks closer. And she's surprised to see genuine care and concern at this Regina. Not Mayor Mills, not dream realm Regina, or even the eighteen year old. Just Regina, who ever that may be now.

"I- you- sorry I-" Emma Swan is stuttering, it's been years since she actually felt nervous to the point of losing her capacity to arrange her words into meaningful sentences.

She's just about to receive her award for Most Pathetic Moment of the Year, or the century, when Regina steps in.

"Swan!" Emma's sure if Regina was at arm's length she'd be shaking her back on track, "Can you get on your feet or not?" And it's incredible how Regina still knows how to guide her out of panicking and how Emma's breath eases under the voice.

"Sure," Not venturing beyond the one word Emma starts to turn with her weight resting of her arms, but just as soon as her right leg comes into the share the pitch of pain has her moaning her way back to the floor.

Regina is dangerously close now, offering her assistance, "Take my hand, I'll pull you up. Try using only your good leg," Regina is surprisingly strong enough to have Emma standing and arrange Emma's arms around her neck, "Think you can walk to my car."

A hyperventilating Emma nods several times, she feels the sweat run through her hairline and hands. She's probably blushing to the point of a red delicious. But embarrassment aside she manages to limp her way to Regina's car.

It's too silent a ride. Emma likes silence, she can't say anything embarrassing while she's silent. But this is a kind of silence she doesn't feel settled with and she has not a clue about how far the hospital is so, "You surprise me," Regina only responds with quick frowned side peek, "A 560SL? Nice ride. I thought you prefered modernity and comfort."

Regina grins not taking her eyes away from the road and Emma is sure her own sigh is too loud and the passersby surely heard it.

"For your information, Miss Swan, my car is one hundred percent safe. And it's also comfortable, sophisticated and modern internally. Unlike others."

"Can't argue that."

Emma thinks she could have simply told Regina to drive her a few blocks to Mary Margaret, but thoughts were hard to organize through the last few minutes and when the option comes to mind they're too far gone.

Storybrook's Hospital has the whitest walls Emma's ever seen, and she's had her share of hospitals.

Regina basically just stares at staff members and seconds latter Emma has a wheelchair and is rolling through the halls. Everything is glass and white until she arrives at a room with a few plats, too green to be organic, she guesses, and very pale baby-blue walls.

She knows baby-any-color walls are supposed to be soothing, but it just doesn't affect her. The doctor comes by, he's friendly and calm through the standard examination routine. Regina waits outside attempting to give Emma some privacy, but thanks to the glass walls leading to the corridor she's attentively inspecting.

"How long ago was your surgery, Miss Swan?" Emma takes notice of her jeans' cut tight high and how the thin scar line is exposed. She hates looking at it. "Miss Swan?"

"Two years and seven months." But it certainly doesn't feel like it happened more than just couple weeks ago. "It was a TKR and the doctor assured me I was fully recovered." Emma doesn't intent on showing her fears and she does her best to keep her voice in check, "Is this happening because of..." But just the thought of it is scary enough to drive her words death as her voice cracks.

"I can't say until I have your scan results."

Honestly, she's always hated how doctors make their patients wait in all uncertainty and leave. He assured a nurse would come by shortly with painkillers and left.

Regina exchange a few words with him before walking in bringing Emma's knee pad and a few papers.

"Hi," Although she's still confident, Regina is clearly out of her element, "The receptionist already called your sister, she is probably on her way as we speak. They also gave me some forms to fill, but I thought best to let you do it if you can."

Emma doesn't understand it really. She was so sure that Regina would still hate her for what she did, for how she left. All in all, here she is, willing to death glare hospital workers so that Emma gets the best treatment this very small town in the middle of nowhere, Maine, has to offer. It just doesn't click with any of her expectations.

She reaches for the papers and starts to read them only to notice that Regina already started filling a few informations with very basic data about Emma.

"I thought it would be best to write down what I could, just in case," Regina explains crossing her arms.

And Emma realises that Regina doesn't know her just as much as she doesn't know Regina. Thirteen years ago this form would be top to bottom rightfully filled in no more than five minutes. Today Regina couldn't venture beyond four answers.

"Why are you here?" Emma asks with honest curiosity, as if this is the key to uncover her every confusion. And maybe for now it is.

"I am making sure you are treated well until your relatives arrive, Miss Swan," Mayor Mills answers.

"That's not what I meant," Emma lets the papers rest over the nightstand, "Why are you here with me? Why aren't you angry? Or avoiding me? I don't get it. Why are you acting as if nothing happened between us?"

If Emma's questions affected Regina at all she doesn't show, she simply stands her ground persistently, "I do not know what you mean, Mi-"

"Please don't gimme that crap!" Emma snaps and reaches for her uncovered knee, one of the habits earned throughout the last couple years, a way to make sure that her leg is still there and her knee healed. That she's fine.

The sudden movement brings Regina's attention to it and Emma keeps her eyes on her hand and knee for a moment longer than she should have.

"This is probably just a concussion, isn't it?" Regina is careful with her words.

"I'll answer yours if you answer mine."

It's almost a challenge, and Emma knows she shouldn't be taking advantage of Regina's worries but if that's the only way to have at least something to explain this unexpected dynamic, she'll take it.

And she's relieved when Regina nods in agreement, "I know it wasn't you who told Mother. So if one of us must be angry, it should be you. Because the minute you admitted I ran, I ran and I told your father and he made sure you would go two thousand miles away from me."

"Mary Margaret?"

"Yes."

"That's why you aren't speaking to each other?"

"We speak, even so we are not friends."

It all made sense, Emma tried taking the hit for Mary Margaret so that Regina would still have a best friend when she left. But her sister came clean.

"Your turn," Regina's firm words shake Emma away from her thoughts, "What are the chances of this being more than just a concussion?"

Emma sighs heavily, "It's not impossible," She silently states.

Regina is slightly shaken up for the first time since she walked into Emma's hospital bedroom, "I thought that by now your injury would be fully healed," She quietly admits.

"How did you know?"

"Thunderbirds don't just fall everyday." Regina waits a moment or two until her words settle, "I heard you saved at least a dozen people."

"I have endangered at least a dozen people." Emma harshly corrects, "And my name wasn't on the news, so how did you actually know?"

"I have my ways."

Emma accepted the answer, for now. She would have enough time to dig her way into Regina's mysteries and this complete stranger she became.

"Hey," Emma reaches the forms, "Could you maybe help me with these?" She asks hopefully.

"Sure." Regina pushes a chair closer to the bed and searches for a pen in her purse.

"I guess I won't be teaching your son after all, sorry."

"It's quite alright," Regina assures Emma, she finds the pen and resumes her search, "I think it will be best to delay this activity for a few years," She gets dark framed glasses and positions them ready to start writing, "At least until he is eighteen and I can't do much about it."

Emma remembers Regina being a sports enthusiast, she remembers how she basically handwalked her into practicing volleyball for weeks and spoke about dreaming of escalating huge mountains and parachuting from a few thousand feets high. This is definitely not that Regina.