Archive of Our Own ^beta

As a little boy, Henry Mills had always looked up to heroes like The Hulk, Spider-Man, and his Mom. He knew he wasn’t supernaturally graceful, or blessed with strength, or especially gifted, but his mom never saw it that way. Every time Regina held him, looked into his eyes, smiled, he felt unstoppable, loved. Every time she would kiss a cut, scrape, or bruise, and it instantly felt better, he knew his mom was just as much a hero as Wonder Woman. Young Henry Mills considered no other explanation for her Mommy Powers.

Which was why his world changed so drastically when he began to wonder if she wasn’t actually a superhero. When all of time stopped for everyone but him. When he realized that he and his mom were the only ones enjoying their lives. When the knowledge of his adoption convinced him, without a doubt, that his story was not simple, not at all. A town under a curse, a boy adopted by the only person in town that could change, and a secret in his biology that he had to solve. It was classic comic book origin story. Every hero needs a villain, and in his mom he found the perfect target.

Believing his mother to have villainous intent was in the past, but it didn’t mean everything was okay. His mom was a hero, had been his hero all along, and will continue to be a hero. But even heroes hurt, and Henry watched the sadness that she couldn’t shake during long evening hours at home. Maybe, once upon a time, it was enough for the two of them to be together; that all they needed for happiness was each other. But they both have tasted the possibility of more, and losing Robin, and whatever happened between her and Emma two weeks ago, was enough to bring his mom down. For weeks, it had been bringing them all down.

His other mom was born to be the savior, but she wasn’t a believer, not in the way he was. He knew she was unhappy in Storybrooke compared to their time in New York. She was trying, for him, but he just didn’t know what she needed. There seemed to be a constant discomfort to Emma, like something was itching underneath her skin.

After all the business with Elsa, Anna, and the Snow Queen went down, his moms seemed to get along better, and it was even getting… good. That tightness around Ma’s eyes started to dissipate. She laughed more, and so did his mom. They laughed together. They all discussed his comics, both he and Emma chiming in on developments during the missing year and what happened to Miles Morales as Spider-Man. There was about a month where it felt like his family was really a family. Until suddenly, mysteriously, it shifted to nothing but distance and uncomfortable silences between the two most important people in his life. He hated it.

Henry stole into the sad little replacement for the Jolly Roger that Hook was using as a home these days. The pirate had been teaching him how to gamble and pickpocket ever since his moms started not-fighting. It was how they bonded. It also meant that whatever Hook nabbed and brought home was fair game for Henry to try his hand at. On good days, Henry would respect Hook’s space and only move an item to show he had been there. Today had not been a stellar day.

Henry ducked into the hold below deck that Hook believed was still a secret. Henry had scouted the comings and goings of plunder in this particular hiding place for a number of days now, leaving the treasure exactly where he found it. There was something new there today, and he felt a pull toward it he could not ignore. It was a necklace with a golden-amber stone set in the center, set atop intricate silver on top and bottom. Henry slipped the long chain into his pocket, making his way out as quickly as he came.

Running through the woods bordering town, Henry stopped at the empty lot of sand where his castle once stood. The wind whipped at his reddened face, tugging at his gray and red scarf. Pacing angrily, Henry thought back to the morning’s addition to the awkwardness between his moms. It was Friday morning, the start of his weekend stay at Emma’s. He had to talk his mom into walking him to Emma’s door, and when they got there, his moms looked right through each other like they were invisible, talking to him instead of each other.

Their behavior was maddening. Henry hadn’t seen his two moms together for a meal, nor had Emma shown up at the house unexpectedly, in weeks. He knew she was missing Game of Thrones because she’d complain about it every Sunday, and he also knew that Regina kept TiVoing the episodes but wasn’t watching them.

Henry kicked at a clump of sand when he remembered his mom saying goodbye to him only, the two women stubbornly ignoring one another again. He plunged his hand into his jacket pocket, retrieving the curiously intriguing necklace. “I wish my moms were happy again!” He clenched his fist around the pendant and threw it with all of his frustration, feeling tears burn at the edge of his vision. The necklace lodged into the sand, the amber stone in the center almost seeming to glow briefly. Henry blinked, hard, and dismissed the soft shine as a trick of the light.

He felt his anger whoosh out of him at the uselessness of it all; making wishes, skipping school, stealing stupid trinkets from stupid Hook. Deflated, he scooped up the pendant, decidedly turning and heading for Emma’s apartment. He was going to get into so much trouble with his moms for ditching class again. He decided to take the long way home; the really long way.

***

A burst of light exploded in the sky, a blinding flare, above the abandoned sandlot. The light travelled down to the sand and in a flash a well-dressed masculine figure with cherry red skin and demonic features stood, radiating power. Vivid blue eyes spied the breadth of his surroundings. He tilted his head back, his horned chin rising, and took in the scents and power of magic in Storybrooke.

“Interesting,” he hummed, brushing over the lapels of his electric blue suit, “Very interesting.”

He smirked devilishly, taking off toward the heart of town in a rhythmic strut. Music filled the air, following him, and he matched his pace to the movement. Low, sinister laughter came out of him and he kicked his heels mid-air, eager to play. With a graceful twist and twirl, a half dozen human sized, wooden-looking puppets erupted from a plume of smoke and flanked him, choreographing with the demon instantly.

“I’ve two summons of the following attribution: one made in obsession and the other in concession. Come, though my powers are changed, and the magic in this land strange, I have the perfect solution.”

***

When Henry walked into Emma’s apartment, it was to the sight of Hook, dressed as always in his gross pirate leathers, napping on the couch. He looked to be in a pretty bad way. Emma’s decision to date the man was desensitizing Henry to the sight of hangovers.

“Hey,” Henry greeted, “My mom leave you here to babysit while she was out looking for me?”

“Yes,” the man growled out, “You’re in a load of shite, mate. I’m calling Emma and then I’m going to sleep the rest of this off. Can’t bear to hear womanly screaming at this hour.”

“That’s my mom you’re talking about, you jerk,” Henry defended.

“Right, right,” Hook rolled his eyes, hitting his speed dial for Emma and explaining the situation. “Well, I’m off. Best of luck.”

The waiting was the worst part. Henry knew he could roll with the punches when getting scolded, but the in-between never sat well with him. He busied himself by making a hot chocolate, and by the time he finished sipping off the melting whipped cream, the front door opened and his two frantic, angry mothers came inside. Henry couldn’t stop the smile that twitched at his face seeing the two of them acknowledging each other.

“Henry Daniel Mills, you are grounded,” Regina said after hugging him tight. She sounded breathless and worried. Henry buried his face in her shoulder, chastened.

“So grounded, kid,” Emma said, taking a turn at hugging him. Her hair was a mess, the cold pulling some color to her cheeks.

“What were you thinking, young man? This is the fourth time in two weeks,” Regina said, gently grasping his chin, no longer needing to bend down to look him in the face.

“Yeah, and what a fun two weeks we’ve all been having together, isn’t it?” Henry shot back accusingly, looking between his two moms significantly. They instantly assumed the same uncomfortable posture they had been displaying earlier. “You’re doing it again!”

“Nothing’s wrong— ” Emma tried.

“Stop it! I hate it when you guys lie to me, you know that!”

“Is this why you’ve been skipping school, honey?” Regina asked, mild. Self-blame was crawling its way across her features, and Henry was torn by causing it. It brought to mind all the other times he’d caused that expression to cross her face. He buried himself in her embrace, hiding in her neck.

“Things were so good. You guys were like best friends at my birthday party. I just want us all to be happy again,” he admitted, always finding the truth easier when he was surrounded by the scent of his mom. “Was it me? Did I do something?”

“Henry,” Emma gasped, sounding heartbroken. “No!” His fingers clamped harder into his mom’s jacket, feeling guilty and unhappy. Emma’s fingers fell across his shoulder. She was trembling.

“Sweetheart,” Regina murmured into his hair, pressing a kiss into the top of his head. “None of this is your fault, do you understand me? Emma and I had a… disagreement, that’s all.”

“We love you so much, kid. Nothing will change that. And, no promises, but we’ll try and be more normal. Uh, right, Regina?” Emma said. Henry tilted his head back to watch the exchange. Regina was glaring accusingly at Emma, but softened when she noticed his gaze.

“That’s correct. More to the point, Henry, you can’t run off all day, it’s not safe,” Regina said. He nodded, mixed up in making his mothers unhappy and feeling angry at their broken relationship.

“And we worry. I can’t be cool about you missing school, not after all the changes in your studies. Say, what if we all hung out? How about you promise to not skip anymore classes if we had a… family night?” Emma suggested. “Is that… okay, Regina, Henry?”

“I have no problem,” Regina said with a special emphasis.

Henry detached from his mom to look at the two of them. They were barely glancing at each other, but they were trying. “Only if you guys don’t get weird.”

“Can do. Doable. Done!--” Emma nodded.

“You’re doing it, you’re being weird,” Henry interjected.

“--How about right now? We’ll go out to Granny’s as a promise-reward… thing, before the whole grounding you bit takes effect. You, uh, free, Regina?”

Regina’s eye-roll was fairly epic. “Let’s go.”

***

The walk down Main Street was eerily silent and empty. He noticed his moms tensing up halfway down the boulevard, and he didn’t think it was because they were being weird — it had to do with something else entirely. Nervously, he slipped his hands into each of his moms’, pulling them closer to him. Protectively, they granted his unspoken request and moved in, watchful on both sides.

“Something’s not right,” Emma commented, low.

“I don’t like the feeling I’m getting. It’s too quiet,” Regina agreed, looking around at all the abandoned businesses. Granny's was lit up but entirely motionless. Henry’s pulse spiked in fear. Even the clock tower looked too afraid to move. “There is some sort of… foreign energy, or power. It’s big.”

“Magic?” Emma questioned.

“I believe so.”

“I’m gonna call David, see if he’s heard anything,” Emma said, calling up her dad and not letting go of Henry for a minute. Regina brought her free hand to bear in a protective, chest-height fist, clearly prepared to throw some heavy offensive magic around.
“He didn’t pick up,” Emma said, sounding worried. “I’ll try Mary Margaret.” Henry tightened his sweating hands, fearful. Regina smoothed her thumb over his knuckles.

“We need to get Henry somewhere safe. My bad feeling is getting worse,” Regina said.

“Mary Margaret didn’t pick up, either. I agree, we need to get you away from this before we go any further, kid.”

They tried to turn around. They couldn’t.

“What the f—” Emma started.

“Language!” Regina scolded.

“I really don’t think now is the time! In case you didn’t notice, I can’t control my effing body here,” Emma said, panicking, but tried to control her language nonetheless.

“I can’t either, mom,” Henry said, just as freaked out, “I can’t stop walking.”

“I’ll teleport us out. It’ll be fine, Henry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Regina said, barely holding onto her calm mask. Her features contorted, obviously concentrating very hard. “I can’t,” she said in confused dread. “My body won’t let me access my magic. It’s still there, but it’s acting like I never asked it to work, or it’s ignoring me, I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Great. Where the hell are we even going, anyway?” Emma despaired.

“The only thing out this way is the old community theatre,” Regina said.

“Storybrooke has community theatre?” Emma asked, momentarily distracted.

“Mom took me to see a production of Cats when I was 8. I had nightmares for days,” Henry chimed in.

“I had perhaps not anticipated the age appropriateness of that particular show,” Regina said, abashed. “I can’t be blamed that Snow looked horrifying in the cat make-up, Henry dear, honestly.”

“Did you curse Mary Margaret into playing embarrassing roles?”

“…Yes.”

“Really? For thirty years? I was kind of kidding,” Emma said, stifling her laughter.

“She was always in minor roles; she really can’t act. If we could discuss, instead, the imminent peril…” Regina reminded, a tad uncomfortably.

“I can’t make myself stop walking toward the theatre; you can’t use your magic. I say we meet whatever is doing this, do our magic link deal, and kick its ass,” Emma said.

“You guys can do anything together,” Henry suggested with a transparent lack of subtlety. Regina and Emma exchanged strained looks above his head. As one, they hurried their strides to the theatre.

“It looks like we can choose how fast we get there,” Emma commented.

“So let’s give it what it wants, shall we?” Regina said, eyes narrowed and lip curled, radiating danger.

They got close enough to make out the details on the exterior of the off-white theatre. A large, lit-up sign proclaimed it to be Enchanted Hall. The marquee beneath displayed the words ‘The Lord of The Dance Presents: The Phantom of the Opera.’

“What the hell? There’s a show going on?” Emma asked.

“No. At least, there shouldn’t be…” Regina said.

“You think whatever’s doing this is inside, don’t you, Mom?” Henry asked, putting on a brave face.

“I do. Make sure you stay behind us,” Regina said, taking the lead up the steps to the closed doors. Emma nodded her agreement, all fierceness, and hurried forth.

Emma, his brave, sometimes reckless momma, kicked the door open. It figured that making a dramatic entrance would be one more thing his mothers had in common. It was immediately apparent where the entire population of Storybrooke had disappeared to. The theatre was packed with bodies, all working on different tasks — Geppetto was sawing away at a large piece of wood while Pinocchio painted the other side, joined comically by an actual human puppet holding a tray of paints. Snow was altering a costume and David was on a ladder, hanging lights. Henry sputtered to a stop. They were singing… the work song from Les Misérables. He shared a look with Regina, the two of them wearing identically raised eyebrows. No one stopped working at the commotion they made, though his grandparents yelled out immediately for Emma.

“Get Henry out of here,” they both pleaded, looking desperate and miserable. Henry felt that the panicky, afraid part of him wanted to laugh; they had sung the warning in tune.

“No, no, no, that won’t do at all. Ladies and gentlemen, two of our stars have finally arrived!” said a sinister-looking stranger. The singing silenced the moment he started speaking. He was red, with bright blue eyes, and horned distortions on his face. Henry had seen enough villains to know one immediately.

“I still can’t move, Regina,” Emma bit out through gritted teeth.

“What do you want from us?” Regina said to him, trying to make herself the bigger target.

“Your best singing voices and a receptive ear. Ah, and who is this? I can feel that you’ve got my talisman, child,” the demon said, gliding closer and reaching for Henry.

“You stay the hell away from him,” Emma spat at the same time Regina threatened, “Touch him and it will be the last thing you ever do.” His mom was heaving with angry, labored breaths, and the demon tilted his head in her direction, pausing his hand inches away from Henry.

“I smell power,” he commented, seemingly impressed. He dipped a hand into Henry’s outer coat pocket, emerging with the yellow pendant. “He’s the one that summoned me, him and one other…”

“Henry?” Emma gasped, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t! I had no idea it was magical, I swear,” Henry stuttered out.

“So what do you want from us? And kindly step away from my son,” Regina enunciated harshly, wrapped up in helpless wrath. The demon took a step back from Henry.

“Go backstage and wait for your roles. I do have a purpose in coming here. It will all be made clear.”  He clapped his hands and everyone in the theatre headed in different directions, scurrying off to their own unnamed tasks. “We have a production to make!”

Regina and Emma started moving toward the heavy red curtain, distress and resistance written all over their faces. They both yelled out for Henry as they were placed backstage.

“Moms!” Henry called after their disappearing figures. His own feet started shuffling him towards the front row of seats. When he got there he saw baby Neal’s car seat on the floor, the infant still in it. “Neal!” He rushed toward his little uncle. Kneeling down, he saw the kiddo was asleep, despite all the noise, and unharmed.

Whatever was holding his body allowed him to sit in the seat directly above Neal, and he looked around the theatre once again. A number of princes were all moving towards spots in the audience - there was Sean with his and Ashley’s child, taking a seat next to Frederick. Mulan took the seat next to Henry, holding Aurora’s newborn.

“What kind of magic is this, Henry? Do your mothers know?” Mulan asked him immediately, looking angry and focused. Tension rolled off her. “I just spent near two hours building a fake rolling elephant.” He couldn’t tell if she was distressed because the task was beneath her or if it had entirely to do with the magic evil coming to serenade them.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. He… he said I summoned him?” Henry said in a small voice, “But I didn’t mean to! Whatever he’s done, my mom can’t use her magic. She said that his power felt big.”

“Obviously it is,” interrupted Moe French abruptly, moving through the row behind them. “Trust the Evil Queen’s kid to bring some demon to town strong enough to force us all out of our jobs for the day. You know I got bills to pay, kid.”

“That is uncalled for,” Mulan defended stoutly, “He is also the child of the savior.”

“Wow,” Henry drew out, his eyebrows inching up his forehead, “I know I used to think the exact same way, but would you two listen to yourselves? Kind of missing the point here. My mom had nothing to do with what I did on accident.” Henry heaved a big, put-upon sigh practiced by teenagers everywhere. He rolled his eyes so far upward that he got an eyeful of the immaculately decorated chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The rude man muttered to himself but, thankfully, walked all the way to the end of his row, out of earshot.

In short order, everyone was seated and the house lights went out, leaving the theatre in darkness. When the curtains opened, the unnamed demon was standing onstage illuminated in light, standing behind a podium. He crashed a gavel down atop it, making everyone in the audience jump.

“Sold!” he crowed out, his voice reaching the ends of the theatre. “Lot 665,” he continued, auctioning off a figure of a monkey to the assorted crowd onstage. Regina was part of the on-stage spectacle, face twisted in anger but sitting in the fictional crowd peaceably enough. She raised a numbered card to place her bid.
    
“Sold to the Viscount de Chagny,” the demon said, gesturing to his mom. Henry realized exactly which character Regina was cast into at the same moment she did. It looked like his mom was about to exact divine retribution.

“Oh, no,” he said lowly, wincing in the darkness.

“What is it?” Mulan asked from her place beside him, looking alarmed.

“My mom hates Raoul,” at Mulan’s blank expression, he amended, “That’s the character she has to play for the next… two, three hours? She’s already super pissed, too.” In that moment, Regina’s eyes connected with his and he shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“How do you know so much about this?” Mulan said, acting like musical theatre was some forbidden knowledge.

“I am my mother’s son,” he said, tamping down a fond smile. Cats wasn’t the only show his mother had taken him to. It was mostly classical or darker musicals that she favored, though she always made an effort to include things that would make Henry happy. She would play soundtracks in the tape player when they were in the car, picking up dry cleaning and going about her day, and she would always buy him a toy from the car wash. Sometimes he took for granted how blissful those old days were.

 The prologue came to a close and all the actors moved offstage, the curtain crashing down with finality. The music of the overture boomed out with no visible instruments or orchestra. He wagged his finger like a conductor. He knew this one very well, remembering his mother humming some of the tunes as she did housework.

Henry leaned back to take in the show, intrigued despite the awful circumstances. They were introducing the French opera house’s dress rehearsal. Snow White was, for the first time in Storybrooke’s history, no longer confined to a minor role, singing moderately well the warbling operas of Carlotta, the prima donna. An incredibly large, incredibly colorful hat was wobbling on her head as she ate up the limelight. His enjoyment was cut short and he hunched up his shoulders to his ears as the demon who was causing all this trouble came and took the empty seat next to him.

***

“I can’t believe I’m Raoul,” Regina said when she stepped backstage, face pulled in disgust.

“I don’t know, he was pretty hot in the movie,” Emma disagreed, peering out at the crew of puppet-demon-minions and dwarves changing the set. Regina glanced around backstage. Snow was getting some spectacularly garish make-up painted onto her face; apparently she was getting a larger role than usual. “Pretty much everyone was.”

“The movie,” Regina deadpanned, making her judgment clear. She wasn’t all the surprised, actually, but she felt duty-bound to give Emma a hard time.

“Hey, we don’t all have the budget to go see Broadway plays,” Emma scoffed, projecting a wall of superiority over the poorly hidden vulnerability Regina had seen enough to recognize.

“I refuse to accept that. I challenge you to find a single library in this world that does not contain a copy of the tape or CD.”

“This is really what you want to argue about right now? That you’re some theatre nerd?”

“No. It’s not. Henry was out there in the audience,” Regina said, craning her neck to see out of the curtains. She couldn’t quite spot him from the angle she was in. She was brought only a small moment of relief from seeing him out in the audience before, putting on a strained smile for her. Mulan, seated next to him, was at least competent enough to protect him if it came down to it. Maybe.

“He was? What is this all about? Are they keeping him hostage?” Emma asked, clenching her fists tightly. She looked fit to tear out there that instant, if not for the spell keeping them in place. Regina wished it could be as easy as going out there and confronting the demon, but it seemed he meant to play with his food first. It was not a comforting thought.

“I wish I knew. We don’t have any choice but to play along. My body still can’t access my magic… but when I can,” Regina paused significantly and prays that she can make good on her promise.

“The minute my body gets some free-frickin-will, I’m throttling that guy,” Emma said, vibrating vicious intent.

“You won’t be alone in that,” Regina said, just as firm.

Just as they were starting to get somewhere, Emma was pulled onto the stage, her face twisting in abject fear at being thrust into the spotlight. Regina followed just close enough to peek out at the action.

Snow was singing, her training as a princess actually giving her some advantage at the art. A backdrop fell, narrowly missing her, and Snow, fully in-character, stormed off at the cursed conditions of the opera house. Archie bemoaned the opera house’s loss of leading lady. Among all the chaos, Hook, of all people, began making demands of the opera managers. Regina was still reeling at the implications of having Hook as the Phantom when Emma moved center stage.

“Emma Swan can sing it for you, sir,” Ruby suggested to David, one of the opera house’s new managers. Regina groaned internally. Emma’s singing voice was akin to a cry -- nay, a wail -- for help. Add to that she was going by her name instead of her character’s, and she didn’t like the implications one bit. Is Emma’s name going to come out of my mouth during our love song? She felt her stomach plummet. More painful that, is mine going to come out of hers?

“She has been well taught,” Granny Lucas added significantly, gesturing Emma forward.

In short order, Regina was also pulled on-stage, acting amazed at seeing Emma’s character singing for the first time. In actuality, the other woman was sweating nervously and croaking out the high notes only barely. Her character was entranced with Emma, a situation which she could hardly tolerate. Things wouldn’t be so difficult, so fractured, right now if Emma hadn’t broken them. This all would be so much bearable if she hadn’t begun to let Emma into her heart in the first place.


8 Weeks Ago

The three of them reached Robin’s inert body hidden deep within the catacombs. Marian rushed forward, Emma shouted for caution, and Regina forced herself not to run to him. That wasn’t her life anymore. It was Marian’s.

She arrived in time to see Marian smoothing a hand down Robin’s bristly cheek, tears in her eyes. Emma had her gun out and was eyeing every crevice and crack with suspicion. She really was a lot jumpier ever since the Snow Queen took her by surprise some weeks ago. Regina provided what expertise she could; she tried to sense what magic held Robin captive. Her immediate feeling was a sleeping curse, and she told them that. Her sister had really done a number on the town, leaving dangerous traps riddled throughout Storybrooke.

“Well then, what, do I just kiss him?” Marian asked, looking to her for answers. She was so desperate, so vulnerable in that moment. Regina forced down her residual resentments, feeling undeserving of the show of openness by the other woman. Robin had made his decision, and this moment would either confirm it or send Regina’s hopes of fate, and love again, and second chances through the roof. Steeling herself, she gave her a nod.

“It’s worth a try,” she said. Don’t work, the traitorous thought slipped through anyway. Marian bent down and, trembling, kissed her husband. It worked, with a powerful pulsing of rainbow magic, and Robin sat up with a gasp, clutching her close, eyes so alive and full of love. Regina didn’t know how to control all the emotions raging through her, confusion and sorrow among the top. She felt her eyes sting with unshed tears, some last hope dying inside her. Emma moved close, protectively almost, and focused on Regina with a helpless, troubled look.

“We’ll give you guys some privacy,” Emma said at last to the embracing couple, turning and heading back the way they came. She stopped after a few paces to implore Regina with a look, and she was grateful enough for the exit that she quickly walked along with the blonde.

“Let’s get out of here before we hit another trap and one of us has to drag Henry down here to wake us up, huh?” Emma said, good natured. as they passed a bend in the natural stone caves, obviously trying to get her mind off the two they left behind. Regina swallowed hard and nodded.

Robin and Marian shared the most powerful magic of all. How could she and Robin be destined for one another, if that were the case? Fate could certainly be cruel, her own life was testament to that. But could it be so fundamentally wrong as to place both Marian and Regina as Robin’s true love? The pureness of the magic of true love was one that could not lie; she saw the evidence of their bond.
All she had to go on was dust from a well-meaning but inept fairy over thirty years ago and her belief that it was meant to be. She gave everything to try and feel some of the happiness that always came so easily to everyone but her, only to once more get cheated by fate.

“Are you okay? You’re quiet,” Emma said, looking apologetic. Flashes of all the times Emma showed up at her office, bringing by some stupid pastry, mid-morning coffee, or early completed paperwork ran through her mind. She had never apologized for saving Marian’s life, and honestly she wouldn’t want her to, but she had apologized in nearly every way she could for unintentionally hurting Regina. It appeared Emma hadn’t let go of the responsibility of torpedoing Regina’s chance at love.

“How do you think I am,” she shot back with a scathing glare. Emma pressed her lips together but remained uncharacteristically silent. The times with Henry she voluntarily gave up so Regina wouldn’t have to be lonely in her empty house came to her and she tempered her vexation. Looking at Emma, who had been bleeding solicitousness, she thought of the intentional out from the awkward situation with Robin and Marian. It was strange to think that Emma had begun to care for her, that out of their antagonism a bond had formed.

“I’m confused. That was supposed to be me,” Regina let slip, staring straight ahead. Emma was trying, clearly. Some honesty probably couldn’t hurt.

“Maybe the fairies were wrong. I think we just saw that they can be,” Emma said, gesturing backward with a weak hand. Her other hand was still settled on her holstered gun.

“You’re very comforting, Miss Swan.”

“I just mean that if they’re meant to be together, that means you don’t have to like… invest yourself in the idea of being with Robin. Make your own choice, you know? Isn’t making your own destiny why you cast the curse in the first place?” she said intuitively.

And it was that bit of relief that she had also found confusing. Among the sorrow (she’ll never find that again) and the confusion (how could the fairies be so wrong?) was a well buried weightlessness. It was a relief that was begging to be released, that needed the jealousy to abate. It was the futility of railing against fate for promising her a soul mate leaving her bereft. It was, she was rueful to realize, the freedom of choice. She didn’t have to commit herself to getting Robin back as fiercely as she ever committed herself to anything. She could live her life, and raise her son, and start to make her happy ending. Maybe it was just a matter of picking her battles.

“I’ll take your words under advisement,” Regina said softly, taking in the other woman in a new light.

 Emma smiled, the tension receding from her frame. “Let’s get out of here. I swear I’ve seen enough creepy stuff in this town to last a lifetime, and underground cave tunnels are not my idea of a holiday.”


Present Day

“This is crazy,” Emma said as they both rushed offstage after the opening number. Emma was flushed and her top was clinging to her, too hot from the lights and stage fright. Regina had been forced to coo over Emma’s abhorrent singing, acting the love-sick fool. It filled her with a bitterness that churned her already frayed emotions.

“Oh?” Regina said with a sudden inscrutable anger, “What’s crazy is the idea that whoever cast this curse on us set you in the role of talented ingenue.”

“That’s not--”

“And with your questionable vocal talents, it’s a casting choice as equally unbelievable as the idea that I would be in love with you.”

“I meant, this curse is crazy,” Emma said, folding her arms tightly, face closing off. The quick flash of hurt she expertly smoothed away was equal parts satisfying and painful. Regina looked at her with too wide eyes and turned her head away with punctuated finality.

“I believe that’s your cue, Miss Swan,” Regina forced out as the music around them swelled, calling Emma onto the stage again.

***

Emma felt herself being dragged into sharing screen time with Ruby who was going on and on about what a great job she did on the previous song. Emma knew her own vocal talents well enough to spot the lie supported by the script. She was pretty sure she saw Henry cringing in the audience, holding baby Neal in his arms. At least she didn’t wake up sleeping babies. That would be about as embarrassing… as being forced into performing a musical in front of the entire town with Regina as her love interest and Hook standing in the way. It hit way too close to home to put on display like that.  

She let her mind wander as she unconsciously sung the words to the song about her genius musical tutor, her angel of music.

Regina came and joined her in the scene, singing her praises and Emma started paying attention, enjoying the compliments, even if they were faked by a spell. She sung about how they knew each other, long ago, and how Regina’s character had risked her life swimming in the ocean to save the scarf she lost.

It brought her back to the time Regina saved her life from the Snow Queen, risking herself to move her out of the way of a fatal icicle. She managed to repay the favor moments later by sheltering Regina out of the way of a second attack, receiving a long cut along her bicep for the efforts.

She felt herself turning to face a mirror on stage, Regina having just stepped out, and there was Killian goddamn Jones in his big leather overcoat with a white mask covering half his face. If Emma had enough control over herself she would have fallen into helpless laughter. As it was, she was able to risk a glance at Regina, standing offstage, who looked just as disbelievingly amused.

Killian led her down into his lair beneath the opera house, singing in a surprisingly good voice. He must have some hundred years of experience with sea chanteys. Another thing she tried to think about as little as possible. The realization that her relationships with men from Fairy Tales consisted of a pirate, a flying monkey, and a lost boy who were all at least a hundred years old was, more often than not, a contributor to her sloppy nights of ill-advised drinking. Her love life was, in a word, a mess.

Emma’s squeezed out the high notes as hard as she could, but it ultimately came out in breaking falsetto. She was alternately dying of embarrassment and laughing internally at Killian trying to coax out any more out of her, goading her on with exclamations of, “Sing for me!” In fact, she could hear Regina snickering just off to the side, and had to admit it was funny in its ridiculousness.

The Phantom’s desire to keep her and hold her in his little world reminded Emma uncomfortably of the argument she’d had a week ago with Killian. He was apparently so jealous of the time she had spent with Regina that he was convinced they were dating. He went on to blame the distance between them on that and suggested moving in together would fix their relationship. Which was when she made the decision they take a break. It had been building for a long time, and he wasn’t entirely wrong that she simply enjoyed time with Regina more than with him. But he couldn’t understand how complicated it was. In classic Hook style, he spent every day thereafter trying to again win her over.

The damp, dark, set of the Phantom’s lair reminded her of Killian’s current residence, and she shivered at the disquieting reality. The echo of their argument, the pirate alternatively yelling and pleading, wouldn’t leave her head as she lived out the scene a second time.

 He thrashed and cursed her for removing his mask, for seeing his ugliness, made all the more potent by the vitriol he spewed. Even though he was acting, it made her heart race in readiness to defend herself. How much of what she was seeing was fiction? His flame of rage extinguished and he sat in a pitiful heap, eyes accusing her of doing that to him. It was a cycle she knew only too well, seeing it repeat in every disagreement they had. He was just too good at acting like he was innocent of the responsibility for his actions. She returned his mask to him and he pulled her up at the elbow, yanking a little too hard, another thing he’d done in the past.

“Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you,” he sang, dragging her out of the darkness and into the light, leaving behind the dreariness of his home in favor of the opera house.

***

Henry watched the rough treatment with increasing anger. He hoped it was just acting, but his feelings about Hook frequently bounced all over the place. One minute Hook was showing him some new (slightly illegal) trick and the next he would be sulky and entirely focused on Emma. Henry’s favorite times were when it was just the three of them, Emma, Regina, and him, and they would just be together.

Smee took to the stage, warning a gaggle of chorus girls of the horrors of the Phantom that lived beneath the opera house. Mulan leaned forward at seeing Aurora in the crowd of ballerinas. Granny Lucas interrupted Smee, warning him of the dangers of getting mixed up in the Phantom’s affairs.

The demon, who had stayed silent in his seat next to Henry, stretched out with a hum of appreciation. Henry twitched his head that way, distracted from the opera managers, played by David and Archie, glorying in the gossip and money generated by the mishaps at the theatre.

Henry decided it was time to get to know their resident singing demon. After all, he had faced down an evil Peter Pan. As frightening as the demon looked, he hadn’t killed anyone yet.

“So,” Henry began in an undertone, keeping an eye on Snow getting increasingly frustrated with the Phantom’s demands that Emma be leading lady in their upcoming production instead. “Why are you doing this?” he asked during a hush in the singing.

“I was summoned, remember?” the demon said after a long moment, “You mustn’t blame it all on me. I go where I’m called.” He put his big red hands up, feigning a sort of innocence to it all with a shark-toothed grin.

“But didn’t you say that two people summoned you?” Henry asked, watching Snow lose it at the thought of not playing the lead. David bowed and scraped to assure her she would not be replaced. The demon took such a long time to answer that Henry, frustrated and trying to make difference, asked, “Fine, can you at least tell me your name?”

“Others call me Sweet. And to answer your previous question, you only finished the spell. This one,” Sweet said, pointing directly at Hook making threats from the rafters, “He started it.”

“He did? What did he ask for?”

The demon sat back and let the action play out in front of him for a good while. Henry narrowed his eyes impatiently and rocked baby Neal, sleeping in his arms.

“He asked that Emma see him as he truly is,” Sweet answered, all dark amusement, as Hook’s character murdered that of the stagehand, Smee. In the ensuing melee, Emma rushed off in fright, pursued by a worried Regina.

“He’s not really dead, is he?” Henry asked, hoping he had nothing to be afraid of with the demon.

“Unfortunately not. The magic in this town is so temperamental,” he said, drawing out a sarcastic pout, “I get summoned here and I don’t even have extra push needed for actual murder,” Sweet whined, looking glum.

“That’s pretty twisted,” Henry said, as Regina attempted to soothe Emma’s fears over the Phantom stalking her.

“That’s entertainment.”

“Shh! My moms are about to sing their love song,” Henry admonished, “I want to see how bright Emma can blush.” He was gleeful over all the opportunities to tease them both about it later.

***

Regina took Emma into her arms, hugging the distraught woman close. Her palms smoothed over her blonde hair and she began singing, her alto coming out hushed and far too intimate. Emma was actually trembling, though Regina could not discern if it was an affectation of the spell or how she truly felt. Either way, it brought to mind the way Emma had come to her the previous month.


4 Weeks Ago

Knocking at her door interrupted Regina in finishing up the last of her mayoral paperwork before bed. She got up and approached, cautious of who would come to her house at night.

It was Emma, and she looked a mess.

“I love your little pyjama suits, did you know that?” Emma said unabashedly the moment she opened the door.

“Miss Swan, have you been drinking?” Regina asked, eyeing the flush to her cheeks and the windswept hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m not really sure why I’m here,” she said, looking embarrassed. She looked back to the street, seemingly ready to bolt.

“You might as well come in, then. I refuse to have a conversation with you standing on my porch in the middle of the night.”

“It’s only, like, ten.” Emma denied, tripping just a bit over the threshold. Regina rolled her eyes; it was 11:00. She led Emma into the study and watched her flop onto the couch artlessly and joined her on the opposite end.

“Why have you decided to grace my doorstep with your tipsy presence?” she asked, getting a better look at her. There was a near-permanent furrow to her brow and her eyes would get lost in the distance, where her lips would pull downward unconsciously. She was almost a sight to be pitied.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we had more time together? Us and the kid? Like the other night at dinner. What if we did that more?” Emma answered in non sequitur, toying with the hem of her shirt and looking down.

“Don’t tell me you drink this much every night I have Henry,” Regina said, waffling between concern for both Henry and Emma. She had picked up on Emma’s difficulties in settling into Storybrooke, but she hadn’t figured there was a drinking problem to worry about.

“No,” Emma said, shaking her head exaggeratedly, “I don’t, really. I just had one of those days.”

“What kind of day?” Regina said. She was prepared to investigate for Henry’s sake. Emma looked her flat in the face.

“The kind of day where... I can’t take everything Storybrooke gave me except for Henry. That’s why I’m here, I guess,” she said with a little self-conscious shrug, “This is the only thing in my life that feels right.”

“Emma… your family, though odious, loves you,” Regina assured, face only slightly pinched at mentioning the two idiots.

“I don’t want it, being the savior, the daughter, the girlfriend,” Emma’s eyes were wet and she focused on her clenched hands, “I could live without all that, easily. Sometimes I wish I was living without it. The only thing I’m truly grateful for is being a mother, and even then, it’s not mine to have, not really. Not when I gave it up, and taking it back meant taking something from you.” Regina released a breathy “oh” in shock, unprepared for the words that reverberated like a blow. Silence was so thick in the room that the hum of the lamp seemed loud, punctuated by Emma constantly swallowing down her emotion, jaw clenched unbearably tight. Regina moved closer on the couch, knees bumping Emma’s. “I’m sorry. I did to you what’s happening to me, I turned your life upside down.” Emma paused, pressing her palms hard into her eyes, “You raised our son so beautifully, and I…  How can you even stand to look at me, much less let me into your home like this?”

Regina looked at the other woman for a long moment, searching for a way to articulate her feelings. Emma was surprising her tonight. She didn’t think the other woman had given any thought to how her presence had affected the life she had made in Storybrooke. Not for the first time, she mapped the other woman’s features, seeing Henry in the downturn of her lips, in the jut of her chin.

“I think you know it hasn’t been easy,” she said, meeting her eyes and communicating the completeness of their past rivalry, “We wouldn’t be sitting here if you hadn’t tried so hard to apologize to me. The fact that it matters to you, that it continues to matter, is how I can accept your place here. You try, Emma Swan, and you don’t give up. It’s why… It’s why I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Yeah?” Emma asked. Regina smiled, close-lipped, and raised her eyebrows in expectation, telegraphing her obvious sincerity. Suddenly bashful, Emma returned the look before becoming fascinated by her hands.

 “Sometimes,” Emma continued, “I wish the three of us could just run away. We pack up, take Henry, and get somewhere he’ll never have to worry about monsters, or kidnaping, or violent death. And in that moment, I don’t even care that he’d be losing some family.” Emma’s gaze became far off, distant. “Sometimes… I don’t even want to have this fairytale cartoon of a family, with all these obligations. I spent my entire life without them, wondering why they didn’t want me, and now everything is okay? After 28 years of my life, just like that?” Emma snapped her fingers to make her point. “There are nights where I don’t want any of it. Where I wish it all away. Does that make me awful?” she forced out.

“No,” Regina said firmly. She slowly brought her hand up and lightly placed the pads of two fingers on Emma’s tensed jaw, guiding the other woman’s eyes up to meet hers.

“How doesn’t it?” Emma asked, breath hitching, her features open and vulnerable. Regina slid her fingers so that she held Emma’s chin, comforting her like she does when she has something important to tell Henry.

“The world has always expected of us the very things we don’t want,” Regina noted, her voice soft and understanding. “We don’t owe it to them to smile about it.” Images flashed through her mind: a horse, a girl, a marriage. A secret, a mother, a murder. A grief so profound she grasped at any possible means of survival.
“If they choose to demand that of us, they should prepare for the feeling when you slash back with everything you have, because it’s not simple. Anyone who tells you so is lying, or wants something from you,” she continued. Emma brought her hand up and circled Regina’s wrist, comfortable and warm.

“How do you deal with that?” Emma asked, eyes so intent for her answer.

“Any way I can. I survive, and I try to make the best of it,” Regina said, smiling a bit sadly. “When you’re fighting for yourself, those whom you’re struggling against may get hurt. How that happens can vary, but it’s unavoidable. I’m afraid it isn’t any easier than that.”

“Yeah,” Emma whispered. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ve made the best of it. Henry’s a great kid, and that’s all you.” Her palm travelled the outer length of Regina’s arm, settling onto her shoulder. She brought herself closer and pressed her head into the crook of Regina’s neck, initiating a hug between the two of them for the first time ever. “Thanks,” she paused, “I mean… thank you for everything.”

Arms circling around the blonde, Regina leaned them both into the cushions, trying to understand her reaction and feelings. She and Emma had their share of intense situations, but they’d never had such a private, honest moment. She wasn’t prepared for the warmth that it brought her. Emma’s breath evened out, and it came to Regina, suddenly, that they were cuddling. Even worse, she enjoyed it. She stiffened, stilling the hand that had unconsciously been petting her hair. “Emma?” she murmured, “Did you fall asleep?” No answer.

Bundling her close, Regina magicked them up to her guest bedroom, depositing her on the mattress. Emma rolled onto her side and mumbled sleepily but didn’t wake. Moonlight captured her peaceful features, the woman looking so at ease in her house. There was something even worse, she found, than enjoying the cuddling: she might be falling for her.

“Goodnight,” Regina whispered in the darkness, draping a blanket over her. She glanced back once before stepping out and closing the door.


Present Day

Emma offered her hands up and Regina strode confidently over to grasp them. The brightness in Emma’s eyes as they linked hands, so eager to be close, made her heart speed up, and she gave in to the story for just this moment.

“Say you’ll share with me one love,” Emma belted out, strong and sure, only for her, “one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you.”

Regina spun Emma around in a dance, the two of them alive and alight with love. They separated, the distance between them inconsequential in the face of their devotion.
 
“Share each day with me,” Emma sang and Regina’s voice blended with hers, caught the notes and carried them out to the back of the theatre. “Each night, each morning,” they both professed.

The song came to a close as they were pressed together in a soft hug, their characters having confirmed their love. Head buried in Emma’s shoulder, she clenched her jaw tight and willed away the tears, betrayed by the faux intimacy of the play, by letting herself believe the lie. Her grin turned mechanical and dull as the audience roared their approval. The moment she stepped offstage she ripped away from the other woman, heading for the bathroom. Emma watched her go, face a mess of conflicting emotions, but stayed silent.

Regina stared into the mirror, blinking hard and trying to compose herself. It was all just a lie, a lie she had to get through in order to make her way to her son. Every time she even thought about jumping off the stage and trying to save Henry, her whole body would freeze.

“You just have to get through this,” she told her reflection, putting herself together in layers. Suitably hardened, she headed back out.

“Stop staring at me,” Regina ordered to Emma when they were again standing together backstage.

“We just shared an epic love song, is there literally any other thing I’d be doing right now?” Emma questioned. She tried to add a joking shrug but it just wasn’t working for her.

“I fail to see why it should affect you,” she scoffed.

“What does that mean?” Emma asked, clearly trying to figure out if she should be offended or not.

“You’ve made it clear your association with Hook,” Regina offered, mild given the situation.

“We’re actually taking a break from each other right now.”

“What?”

“I needed to figure some things out, ever since things got, uh... Two weeks ago, after we --”

“Don’t say it.”

“Regina, that’s not,”--her feet started leading her out the door--“Goddamnit! This isn’t the end of it,” Emma growled, propelled against her will upon the stage. She joined the Opera’s ensemble in bowing to the audience. Hook jealously sent the splendid chandelier plummeting to shatter at Emma’s feet, cursing her for choosing Regina.

“Thank God, it’s finally intermission,” Granny muttered, looking extremely put out by the whole affair. She looked like a woman pushed to the edge. Emma joined them as the curtains fell and their captive audience began to clap.

“It’s weird, right?” Emma said, “The fact that we call literally everyone by their character names except me and Regina.” She looked at the other actors assembled backstage. There was quite the rush going on, costumes being shoveled to and fro.

“Need I remind you that this is all a sick game? I wouldn’t look into it too much,” Regina replied shortly. She was still having a hard time looking at her ever since the love song. It appeared Emma had the same problem.

“But why do it like this? What’s the point?” Emma pressed, probably trying to find some meaning in all this.

“I need to get you two into costumes during intermission, sorry,” Ruby apologized, shoving a mountain of chiffon into Emma’s arms and something starched, black and gold into Regina’s. Huffing at the interruptions, they were compelled behind different dressing screens to put on their costumes.

Regina stepped out from behind the curtained section, facing the mirror. She was wearing a black suit of formalwear, almost a uniform, limned with gold accents. The horizontal rows of gold ribbing brought to attention her figure and complemented her complexion.

“Are you… wearing a cape?” Emma gaped, looking quite astonished, pupils blown wide.

“I can’t believe we didn’t have costumes for the entire show but now suddenly it’s important? This production is a sham,” Regina said with distaste.

“I really can’t tell what part you’re complaining about… is it because you think this show isn’t up to your standards, or are you referring to the way we’re forced into these roles?” Emma asked, her eyebrows climbing into her forehead.

“Cute. Obviously I’m angry at the demon holding our son hostage while we play to the tune of his fancy.”

“The idea is that this all stops when the play’s done, right?” Emma questioned, looking distraught at their helpless plight.

“Right,” she confirmed. Hoped. It was all that was getting her through this emotional torture.

“So we’re almost done… kind of. Just need to get past all of it and then we can kick this thing’s ass,” Emma said with a bloodthirsty grin.

“I’m not so sure we can… If it can hold us back with a mere spell, we might not have a chance. We have to think of ways to get Henry away from it.”

“If it comes down to it, we take Henry and run.”

“Just like you wished it,” Regina said, immediately looking regretful.

“I’m not sure I deserved that, but I deserve something. I’m sorry things have been so weird.”

“You let that happen. I tried to talk to you,” Regina said, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“I know! I’m sorry, I was scared, okay?”

“Really? Of what?” Regina pushed, disbelieving.

The music called the both of them out onto the stage, the two barely having a moment before being thrust under the spotlights again.

Regina felt herself smiling, bittersweet, as she danced with Emma to the tune of Masquerade. The other woman fit almost too well in her arms, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be to actually share a dance together. It was a traitorous thought, set to agonize her. Things were so different now. The last time they were at a party they were actually approaching a… friendship.


3 Weeks Ago

“Emma, you’re early,” Regina said, surprised.

“Ma!” Henry shouted and rushed at her in a hug. She lifted his present with a single hand above his head to avoid the motion then wrapped it around his back. “I thought you’d be coming with the others?” he asked, clearly pleased to have her.

“Well, it’s not every day our young man turns 13, is it?” Emma imitated in a very poorly done English accent.

“We never should have watched Harry Potter with you,” Regina scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“What are you talking about, Mom? Emma had to come to Magic Night. It’s a family tradition,” he added as an aside to Emma, “And we’re family.” He looked too pleased for either woman to argue the point, especially on his birthday. “Even if she should never do that accent again,” he tacked on, much to Regina’s pleasure.

“Tough crowd,” Emma laughed. Behind his back, Emma mouthed the words Magic Night? to Regina, who cleared her throat and removed the wrapped present from Emma’s hand.

“I’ll go put this on the table.” Regina beat a hasty retreat. Emma pressed a kiss into Henry’s forehead, mouthing “happy birthday,” and followed her into the kitchen.

“So, what’s this about Magic Night?” Emma said, not releasing the detail for a minute.

“Henry enjoyed magic tricks as a child. Every year, the day before his birthday, we would either go see a magic show, or movie that had to do with magic.”

“That must have been hard for you,” Emma guessed.

“I certainly didn’t think it would fill his mind with curses at the time. And I enjoyed being able to do some ‘magic’ for him that he so enjoyed.”

“You? Did muggle illusions?”

“Emma, you really must stop—”

“No, please tell me you’d dress up in one of those suits… and the black hat! Did you ever pull a bunny out of it?” Emma looked more impressed with her than she had over just about anything Regina had done. It was a little insulting. But it was also inexpressibly charming, damn her.

“Maybe some time I’ll show you pictures,” Regina said, giving just the slightest hint of a smile. She turned away to check the oven.

“I’m counting on it. What’s all this?” Emma said, gesturing to all the ingredients laid out on the kitchen counter.

“After our last magic lesson went so well, I thought I would actually introduce you to making tapas,” Regina said, mischievous.

“I’m in,” Emma said, rolling up her sleeves. “Uh, what should I be doing?”

"Wash your hands and start slicing the eggplant," Regina said.

"So is this something Henry likes?" Emma asked, eyes intent on her task.

"I've been trying out recipes with him, he said he likes this one. When I got my memories of the missing year back, I remembered that I had visited my father's kingdom. I was looking for a keepsake or two," Regina paused, thinking of how despairing she was after losing her son. She needed family so she took to revisiting her childhood home, but it was so full of bad memories it brought her down even more. "I was going through this old, empty castle, which so clearly had once been full of life, and I found myself in the kitchens." She remembered wishing she had known her father's family more, that she had more than stories whispered by her father in the moments Cora was away. He promised her that she had many tíos and tías that would have loved to meet her. She never got the chance. "I found a number of recipe books there, and I managed to remember most of the names when the curse broke. I've been looking up equivalent recipes online."

"Good," Emma smiled a soft, fond smile at her. "Henry should know about his family," she paused, "Thanks for sharing this with me, too." They were far too close to one another again, so close that Regina could feel the heat coming off Emma.

"Those need to go into the oven now," Regina gestured to the slices of eggplant, breaking the moment before things got more confusingly charged.

***

"You okay having all these people in your house?" Emma said, sliding into the kitchen halfway through the party.

"You should know that you’re the only unwelcome person here, dear," Regina lied, smiling with her eyes.

“Oh! You wound me, Regina. No, but seriously, keep telling yourself that," Emma grinned, popping more carrots into a bowl. “But I think we both know you like me.”

"You aren't intolerable," she conceded. Emma pumped her fist in the air.

"Ha ha! I knew it!" She crowed.

"That was hardly a compliment," Regina said, handing off a fresh bowl of dip to join the carrots.

“Well, I got you to smile and I got my carrots, so back out I go to play hostess some more. Henry wanted to see you, by the way,” Emma said, squeezing past Regina, even though there was plenty of room on the other side of her.

“What for? Is something wrong?” she said, alarmed.

“Nah,” Emma reassured with a gentling of her features, laying a soft hand on her elbow. “They’re taking pictures out there and he wants you in them.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So get out there, lady, and spend some time with our son.”

Our son. That had gotten easier, too, to the point that it wasn’t just stating a fact. It no longer meant He’s mine, but he’s also yours. It was Ours, it was us, it was a choice to acknowledge the connection they shared, to welcome it. It was family.

It was everything she felt as the three of them posed together for photos; it was seeing the candid shots of them in an intimate, joyful bubble. It looked like a happy ending.


Present Day

Regina felt herself tune out for much of the performance, the feel of Emma in her arms grating at her. Hook had made threats during the masquerade ball that had everyone desperate for some answer to getting rid of him. All of us are desperate souls, she thought as her character pleaded with Emma to perform in the Phantom’s new play so that they may catch him in the audience. The lot of them all crowded around her, certain that her sacrifice would provide them with their peace. It was why she was always on Christine’s, Emma’s character’s, side more than anyone else in the show.

Emma ran out, refused them, and she exited the scene after her. After watching them suffer through more of Hook’s intimidation tactics, it all changed to the snowy graveyard backdrop. Emma was gathered there, singing about being orphaned, and she couldn’t help but feel for her. Emma looked directly at her for her line, “Why can’t the past just die?” and in its futility it felt, a little bit, like an apology.

Hook tried again to manipulate Emma to his side, and the whole thing had her so sick she searched out Henry with her eyes and just watched him. Her lips opened, and she sang, and talked, but she was entirely absent from it. At last, they performed the Phantom’s musical, trying to catch him, only for him to kidnap Emma down again to his lair, Regina hot in pursuit.

The musical was finally near its end, Emma having unmasked Hook and seen him for who he truly was. If only it were that simple. It felt like a kick in the gut for it all to play out this way, for Emma to be caught choosing between the two of them, for her to this time choose Regina. Her vow of vengeance against the demon in the audience grew ever stronger. She couldn’t think of a more painful farce.


2 Weeks Ago

Regina was on the very last of her paperwork for the Zoning Commissions project, the headache nearly finished, when a quiet series of knocks came at her door. Being a little past midnight it was too late for a casual visitor. She unfolded from the office chair stiffly, setting down her pen and going to open the door. Emma, again. Drunk, again.

“I’d make some kind of quip, but I can’t imagine kicking you when you’re obviously already down,” Regina heaved a weighty sigh. “Come in. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yeah… Yeah, thanks Regina,” Emma said, looking pathetically grateful over the small gesture. Regina led the way to the kitchen, Emma nearly stumbling over her feet to follow.

“I hope you didn’t drive here,” she noted, seeing the near-fall and smelling the vapors of hard liquor exuding from Emma.

“No, I had to walk… I was pissed.”

“Hm? Hook run out of clean clothes and try to steal yours?” Regina said, riling the other woman intentionally.

“What was it you said about not kicking me when I was down? I had a fight with Killian,” Emma admitted, looking anywhere but at the brunette.

“Oh,” Regina said, tensing her hand around the coffee pot, hyper-focusing on her task.

“Again. We fought again. I feel like we’re always fighting,” Emma forced out the truth, slipping off her jacket and crawling onto a bar stool. She held onto the kitchen table for dear life, trying to find her balance.

“So you fought and then, what, fell into a large puddle of alcohol?” Regina tssked, watching the steady drip drip drip of the coffee instead of the other woman.

“We started drinking before the fight but, yeah, that’s pretty much accurate,” Emma said. “So, how was your night with Henry? Much better than mine, I’d wager.”

“It was. After dinner he worked on homework while I did paperwork, then we had dessert and he roped me into playing a video game with him,” Regina said, her tone fond and soothing, “The one you got him for his birthday.”  Emma closed her eyes and smiled dopily.

Regina was in the mood to oblige her if she wanted to change the subject to something more pleasant. Regina had come to a place of acceptance surrounding her relationship with the other woman; they were, though they never spoke it, something like friends. Perhaps it may be more accurate to say they were approaching something… more. The thought frightened and annoyed her as much as it thrilled her.

Her fear was encapsulated by how much she risked her heart in the past year, and how much she was hurt. Once, very notably by Emma herself. Her frustration lay in the fact that Emma acted like dating Hook would solve her problems, that she would enjoy living the life others wanted for her if she only tried hard enough. She knew from experience that didn’t work out.

“Describe dessert to me. In pornographic detail. Oh, god, was it the apple pie you said you were gonna make?” Emma practically moaned. Regina rolled her eyes at the other woman’s antics. She had started dragging Emma to the grocery store with her, just to make certain that Henry would have access to real food when he went over for his weekends. Emma had begun inviting herself to dinners because she just ‘couldn’t let something so tasty sounding become leftovers, and, really, Regina, I’m doing you a favor.’ She should have started charging a dining fee.

“How about I just give you a piece?” Regina said, folding her arms over her chest, resigned to feeding Emma Swan for the next handful of years. At least until Henry turns 18.

“Yes, oh, that would make my night, Regina,” Emma said, salivating. Regina smirked, preparing to tease her first.

“The crust is home-made and buttery, of course,”—Emma was watching her with widening eyes—“The pastry flakes melt in your mouth, paired with the granulated sugar on top perfectly so, and when you bite down, the hot apple filling—”

“Stop. Seriously, Regina, you need to stop it and just give me this pie,” Emma interrupted, her face flushed, though whether from the alcohol or pie-lust, who can say.

“What’s the magic word that gets good girls what they want?” Regina taunted deliberately, leaning against the counter.

“Not exactly a good girl though, now am I?” Emma jested. At Regina’s wholly unimpressed look, she changed tactics.
“Please?” Emma begged, deploying her unnaturally persuasive ‘puppy-dog eyes’. If she wasn’t planning on actually giving her the pie before, she certainly would have after that display.

“Emma Swan, you are absurdly easy. I’m shocked,” Regina mocked, face an exaggerated display of naiveté.

“Hey, for your pie? That’s not easy, that’s good sense.”

Regina tamped down her smile and unveiled the covered pie dish. She cut a small slice for herself and a larger one for Emma, who would surely need it with all the liquor she was swimming in. She placed the plate in front of the other woman.

“Don’t get used to sitting back while I feed you. I just don’t trust you not to break my plates, state that you’re in.”

“Thank you,” Emma garbled around her pie. It was fairly disgusting to watch, so she turned away to pour the coffee. “It’s just as good — no, better than I thought it would be.”

Regina joined her at the bar, setting down the coffees and her own plate of pie. She started to eat, shooting worried looks at the other woman.
“Emma,” she began softly, “Why are you still with him if all you do is fight?”

Emma looked down into her plate for a long moment. “Sometimes we don’t fight,” she denied. Regina looked at her frankly until she caved. “He gave up his home for me. He doesn’t push me for the truth. I never have to wonder if I deserve him, God, that’s awful to say. He’s not… He wants me so much, and it’s… nice to be the only thing he wants, that he doesn’t need more than just me.” Emma’s eyes took on a far-off cast, face troubled.

“Is this about your brother?” Regina asked, practically a whisper. She had come to know that Emma’s emotional issues took up a much longer list than she wanted known.

“Stop it. Stop… knowing me the way you do,” Emma fisted her hands over her knees, blank stare trained onto her half-eaten pie.

“No such option at this point, my dear,” Regina said.

“Yeah, I guess there’s not. There’s been so much going on to distract me that the idea of settling down for a quiet life with Snow White and her Seven Dwarves is finally hitting me.” Emma took a long pull of her coffee, “Fuck, I wish there was booze in this.”

“When you put it like that, I wish I had spiked my coffee, as well.” They shared a smile and each worked over their pie.

“D’you want more coffee?” Emma asked.

“Think you can manage walking in a straight line, now?”

“I am feeling a lot better.”

“Hmm, imagine that. Oh,” Regina reached out for Emma’s mouth unconsciously. Her thumb hovered just off the corner of her lip. “You’ve got some crumbs… here,” Regina finished, stock-still.

“Where?” Emma’s fingers wrapped gently around hers, the motion bringing Regina’s thumb into contact with her face. Regina swiped over the other woman’s lip.

“It was just right there,” she said in a hushed voice. Emma leaned into her hand. “Emma,” she breathed out, eyes fluttering shut. “What do you think you’re--”

Emma’s lips met her own, tasting like coffee and softness and she felt her stomach drop out of her, kissing her back without thought. It was good, it was Emma, and as thoroughly unbelievable as it was, she welcomed it. She had just started carding her fingers through Emma’s hair when the kiss abruptly stopped and the blonde stumbled back, upending the bar stool loudly.

The two of them looked at each other in panic, not saying a word, breathing hard. “I’m sorry, Regina, I am so sorry,” Emma insisted with wide eyes, backing out of the kitchen and running out the door before she even had time to protest.


Present Day

The closing notes of the musical drifted out and the audience, horribly, began to cheer and clap. Like a string being cut, they all regained full control of their selves.

They rushed to Henry to check on him, swooping him into a hug just as Snow and David descended to take hold of Neal. “Henry! Are you okay?” they both asked in alarm. Just as quickly, they looked around for the demon that had been sitting next to their son the whole time.

“You won’t be finding me there,” the demon says, seated primly upon the chair in the center of the stage. He waved his fingers, “We figured it all out while you were… acting,” he said with the most judgmental look possible.

“Figured out what?” Regina questioned while forming a massive fireball in her fist. Emma tucked Henry behind her back, guiding the two of them behind the flickering flames.

“There was a compulsion spell on my talisman. Pesky little thing. It’s what caused this one,” he gestured widely at Hook, “to summon me in the first place. And for that one,” he pointed at them, and Regina brought her arm back to throw, “to finish it. Turns out your Captain here likes stealing from the Dark One.” The demon rolled his eyes extravagantly.

“Anyhow. I’ve learned not to wait around for vengeance from you hero-types. So now it’s out and my role is past,” Sweet sang, velvety smooth. “Don’t let your mistaken anger last. It’s all been done, there’s no more to tell. Talk to each other, if only for your son. See you all in hell.” The demon twirled around and disappeared in a winking ball of incandescent light, his puppets vanishing at the same time.

Her pulse was pounding in her ear, the adrenaline stripped of its target. Everyone stopped in the theatre for a moment, acclimating to the absence of threat.

“I’m sorry Moms, I just wanted you guys to be happy,” Henry pled as they both engulfed him in hugs, Regina checking him again for signs of injury. “I didn’t know that this would happen!” He looked miserable.

“Oh, Henry, sweetie, we’re just glad you’re okay,” Regina said, smoothing a palm over his cheek. Emma nodded into Henry’s hair.

“Whatever that was—” Emma started.

“Sweet’s his name,” Henry interrupted, looking down at his mothers’ disbelieving expressions.

“—was kinda right. I mean, this isn’t good for Henry,” Emma said. Regina kept a hand on Henry but stepped back a pace. “Can we please go back to how things were,” Emma said, giving the other woman her best puppy-dog eyes. Henry immediately picked up on it and mirrored the expression to a tee. “Friends?”

“As you say, Miss Swan, we must do what is right for Henry,” Regina agreed, stilted. “Friends,” she repeated, and the word twisted in her mouth. She kissed Henry on the forehead and then pulled away. “I’m going to make certain the threat has passed. Excuse me,” Regina said, back straight. She was gone before either could protest. They both watched the door swing shut in silence.

***

“Mom!” Henry cried, pushing Emma toward the door.

“What?” Emma asked, perplexed.
 
“You guys aren’t friends. I know how the spell works -- it reveals truths from the heart. You wouldn’t have been able to sing love songs to each other if you both didn’t feel anything. Go after her, dummy!”

“What? No, she’s-- ”

“She’s upset and you need to fix it,” Henry said, aiming a direct copy of Regina’s glare at Emma.  “I can tell. Go!”

“Fine, kid, but we’re still going to have a conversation about all this, okay?” Emma said, backing up and pressing down on the door handle.

“Okay, okay. But later, please!”

Stumbling out into the night air, Emma searched frantically for Regina. It was suddenly very important that they talk about everything that happened. She spotted her hustling down the sidewalk, already at the end of the street. Emma ran, desperate and conflicted and overwhelmed.

“Regina, wait!” she shouted. Regina’s hair flipped, shiny and gorgeous as she turned around. A light bulb flashed in Emma’s mind. How did she let herself stay away so long? She always knew that Killian would never have the emotional hold over her to hurt her. The strength of her feeling for Regina was frightening and kept her away. But it was agony not acting on them, she saw that now. For so long, she thought she could go through life with one foot out the door. She had to do what she could to make this place her home. And her home was looking right at her. “Hey,” she tried, awkward.

“Hey,” Regina replied, voice rough and wet. Henry was right, she was upset. Emma felt a complete idiot for not having the strength to face her own feelings before tonight. But she hoped she could fix it. She hoped it wasn’t too late.

“Henry told me something about the spell,” Emma said, curling her fingers at her side. Regina’s eyebrows rose to new heights. “Ah, yeah, apparently the spell works so that… your emotions have to be true for you to play the part. So, kind of proving some concerns I’d been having about Killian for a while, actually,” Emma said, getting distracted.

“If you’ve stopped me just so you can go on at length about Hook again— ”

“No, that’s… that’s not why I came. I’m saying this all wrong, please just hear me out.  I’ve been an idiot. I was lying to myself even though I know better. Regina, getting to know you has been one of the best things…” Emma stalled out, staring helplessly at Regina, still broken wide open by the revelations about her feelings.

“And as you stated, we shall be friends for Henry,” Regina said with a wounded expression.

“That’s not what I want!” Emma broke in.

“Oh?” Regina questioned, every word another nail in the coffin.

“That’s not only what I want.” Emma amended, eyes wide.

“Get to the point, Miss—”

“Please,” Emma begged, knowing that after all the running away she hardly deserved the mercy.

“...Emma.”

“The point is,” Emma breathed, overwhelmed. She licked her lips, took another step so she was close enough to see into Regina’s eyes, how shiny they were in the starlight. “I think I always knew how hard I fell for you, but I was scared of it becoming real. I was scared of being left behind the moment I became attached to someone again. Regina, I can’t even tell you how sorry I am for running away from you after I kissed you. God, but I want to try to show you how sorry I am. I know I was hurting, but I know I hurt you more. And you would be well within your rights to want nothing to do with me after all I put you through, but the thing is… uh, the thing…” Emma’s eyes darted about nervously until finally they settled on Regina’s again. She saw Regina’s throat bob up and down.

“Say you’ll share with me one love,” Emma warbled out, small and scratchy and scared, “one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you…” She paused, tried to read Regina, screwed up her courage and carried on, “Share each day with me,”

“Each night, each morning,” Regina joined her, voice shaking with emotion.

“Say you love me,” Emma sang, fear stark on her face.

“You know I do,” Regina answered, holding out a hand. Emma slipped their palms together and gently pulled their bodies to one another. “Love me,” they both sang, eyes fluttering to each other’s lips. “That’s all I ask of--” Their mouths connected, eyes falling shut as they found strength and love in equal measure, supporting and gentle.

“You’re not going to run away again, are you?” Regina asked when they parted, warm but uncertain.

“No. No more running… I will follow you, remember?” Emma repeated, cheesy, a flush coming to her cheeks.

“No catchphrases, please,” Regina begged in fake-disgust, pulling the other woman in for an even longer and deeper kiss, the two of them entirely caught up in each other.
“What do you say we get back? I believe your son is in need of a firm reprimand,” Regina said.

“Why is is that whenever he summons demons from Hell he’s my son?” Emma joked, mock-outraged.

“Henry gets his inclination for playing with unknown artifacts from you, dear,” Regina said, poking at her gently in the chest, “Which makes it your responsibility.”

“So what, that makes me the one to talk to him about meddling in his moms’ love lives, too?”

“Perhaps we give him a pass on that, just this once. But the part about strange and unknown objects? Yes, absolutely.”

“It did turn out pretty okay though, didn’t it,” Emma said, fruitlessly biting back her wide smile. Regina kissed it, the smile now wholly uncontainable.

“That it did,” Regina agreed, already starting the walk back to the theatre’s side door. “Though you’ve still got a lot of groveling to do to make up for those weeks of running away.”

“I’ll spend as long as it takes to make you know how sorry I am for that. And how happy I am that you’re with me now. But I’ve also got to clear things up with my parents, and, uh, really make sure Killian knows we’re broken up,” Emma said before they entered the theatre, holding onto Regina’s hands.

“I’d like to get Henry home before he gets into even more trouble,” Regina said, thankfully dodging the entire Hook issue.

“Yeah and I could stand a shower. I'm covered in theatre make up from that masquerade scene,” Emma said, rubbing at her cheekbone. Her fingers came off with a layer of powder.

“Come by for dinner,” Regina said, but it came out like a question.

“I’d love to,” Emma smiled, looking down, suddenly shy.

“Come over at 7:00, then.”

“Should I uh, bring anything?”

Regina pulled her close for another heated kiss and said, “You could bring an extra set of clothes, for the morning? If you want to stay over?”

“Oh, yeah. I want. I'll be there at 7:00,” Emma punctuated with a kiss, eyes bright and alive. They walked into the theatre together, holding hands.

***

Henry walked into what would quickly become a favorite scene: Emma cutting vegetables while his mom cooked at the stove, the two easy around each other in a way he had never before seen.

“Hey, moms,” he announced, prompting a large smile from Regina and a nervous but happy one from Emma

“Hey, Henry, how about some dinner?” Emma tried for casualness.

“So does this mean you're going to move in and we’ll all live here?” Henry said with delight at seeing his mothers squirm.

“Henry!” Regina reprimanded while Emma sputtered.

“And then you guys will have like a billion babies and I’ll be the best big brother ev--”

“Don’t forget that we haven't yet discussed your punishment, young man,” Regina said, though her eyes were bright. Henry was overtaken by long peals of laughter. Both his mothers’ faces were very red.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m glad you’re happy. You guys deserve it,” Henry sat at the table, “And so do I. Took you two long enough.”

 ***

With dessert over, Henry in bed, and the house silent around them, Emma looked at Regina with naked wanting.

“How long are we to wait before we're one?” Emma asked with a sly smile, trying marginally to sing to the tune. She wouldn’t mind a do-over of one of her favorite songs paired with Regina instead of Killian.

Regina raised a single eyebrow for a long moment before holding out a hand at her side. With a puff of violet magic, a perfectly fitted ivory Phantom’s mask appeared in her hand. She slid it onto her face with a theatrically wicked smirk.

“Past the point of no return…” she sang out in her low voice.

“Oh, Hell yes. Take me upstairs now,” Emma said, concerned only with the quickest path to Regina’s naked body.

*

Breathing hard, pressed hotly against each other, Regina danced her trembling fingertips over Emma's face, pushing her hair out of the way and giving her a wet kiss that tasted like sex. “You alone can make my song take flight,” Regina breathed into Emma's ear. She shuddered against her, overtaken by the sudden realization that this happiness was theirs to keep.

Smiling into one another and kissing, they both mouthed, “It’s over now, the music of the night.” Regina’s straight face lasted about a moment longer than Emma’s. They laughed together, smothering the noises in each other’s necks.

“Oh, my God, let’s never mention that musical again,” Emma snorted, running a palm over Regina’s naked shoulder.

“Never again,” Regina agreed, her face awash with happiness, eyes curling at the corners.

Emma took her time to admire the pure expression of pleasure. It was strange, the way this all came about, but she was learning that strange was just her way of doing things now. She was Snow White’s daughter, and a mother, and she was something special to Regina Mills, and she found she wouldn’t change one bit of it. She shared another lingering kiss with Regina. She was home.