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By the time—has it been hours? it feels like hours—Regina saunters out of Granny's, none of her former gal pals in tow, thankfully, Emma's nearly halfway through the hipflask she borrowed from Killian and half out of her mind with worry. God, Mary Margaret's really rubbing off on her.
It might have something to do with the fact that she's right next to Emma, constantly peering into the spyglass she borrowed—strong-armed, really—from Killian and muttering to herself about impending doom and destruction.
Recon with her mom, this is what Emma's life has come to.
"Spying on me now, Snow?" Regina says, and Jesus, when did she get so close? She's walked right up to where the Bug is parked, a convenient spot near the back alley that offers excellent vantage point into the diner. "Afraid the Evil Queen will come out to play?" It's practically a purr, that's what it is, and Emma's 100% sure the smirk will come back to haunt her in her sweetest dreams. Her nightmares. She meant nightmares.
"I was worried about you," Snow says, earnest and wide-eyed, and Emma can see the mask drop. Change and soften, transform into the Regina she's now grown accustomed to.
She's breathtaking like this, a hint of vulnerability in her voice when she says, "I don't need your coddling. I can handle myself."
"That doesn't mean I won't worry," Snow says.
Emma nods fervently, because yes, Regina can handle herself, but damn right she's gonna worry about Regina hanging out with her former—former, okay? they don't know what she's been through, they're not her friends—evil cronies and pretending to be on their side although she's secretly on theirs. That shit's got disaster written all over it, and it's just pure concern that kept Emma up all night when she first heard about it.
It's concern that made her grit her teeth and sit through what was definitely hours of Regina drinking shots with her new (pretend) BFFs and crushing shot glasses with her hands (which, did they even pay for those glasses? how did it get past Granny, anyway?).
She's seen how much Regina has been through, and she still has that promise to keep. She wants Regina to be happy.
"Need a ride home?" is what she says, swallowing everything else she wants to say (don't do it, Regina, this is the worst idea ever).
*
Mary Margaret gets dropped off at the station, where David and Hook are babysitting Junior and doing whatever it is that they do when they're enjoying each other's manly company.
Emma gets a motherly peck on her cheek and a "good night, sweetheart." Regina gets handholding and a choked up teary-eyed thanks that she tolerates with minimum snark. It's amazing. It's sweet, really, that they got here after decades of feud and bloodshed.
Sometimes Emma thinks her mother loves Regina almost as much as she loves David. Sometimes—not that Emma will ever say this to Regina—she suspects the feeling is entirely mutual.
It's the stuff of fairytale, and she's here to witness it—ringside view, Savior Special seats—that's gotta count for something, right?
*
She's barely pulled into Regina's driveway when the front door opens, and out rushes their son, who's up waaaay past his bedtime, by the way, with a strangled, "Mom! I was so worried!"
Regina's out of the car in a flash, enveloping him in a tight hug. Not a word about his bedtime. Huh. Is Emma the disciplinarian now?
"I'm okay, Henry, I'm okay," she's murmuring, pressing soft kisses on his cheek and neither of them looking like they'll let go anytime soon.
Not that she blames Henry. Emma's third-wheeled herself into a couple of their hugs and it's kind of great, the sheer weight of affection. It's disgusting and it's everything and sometimes, when she thinks about it, Emma hates herself a little bit for believing (once upon a time) that she could keep them apart and deprive either of them of this, this love.
Her entirely involuntary "dude, bunny slippers?" after a glance at Henry's choice of footwear is what gets them to break apart, staring her down with identical dirty glares.
Emma almost feels bad. Almost.
"They're comfortable," Henry shrugs. "I was worried."
And the fact their little boy has been up late worrying about his mom's potentially disastrous plot to infiltrate a group of notorious villains who used to be her friends is enough to shut her up, now and forever. Maybe bask a little bit, because it's all she ever wanted for Henry.
Regina's all she ever wanted for Henry. For all that Gold is an evil asshole, Emma's thankful for his behind-the-scenes pulling of strings for once.
"I'll be fine," Regina says, reaching out to muss Henry's hair. Their smiles are wide and so full of love and Emma stares and stares.
If a small, selfish part of her wants some of it for herself, well.
*
Regina finally remembers Henry's bedtime, after they've all had a mug of hot chocolate and Henry's noted down every word of Regina's debrief about the Queens of Darkness—that's what they're calling themselves, hah, you'd think they'd come up with a better name for their oh-so-fearsome mean girls club—and their plan to track down the Author and tip the scales in favor of the bad guys.
Emma almost wants to tell them to just go back to the real world instead, but that never goes down well with fairytale characters. Convoluted plans are more their style. Case in point: her parents and Regina.
Henry's sent to bed with another hug from his mom and a promise to stay safe, now please sleep. She's fairly certain he'll be up checking his notes, but she just got a one-armed Henry hug and okay, their son's kind of perfect.
"For the record," Emma says, when they've moved to the study for a glass of something stronger, "I still think this is a bad idea." She's already had this conversation—well, more like a near meltdown if she's entirely honest—with her parents, and that went nowhere.
And maybe she contemplates crushing the glass with her bare hands to emphasize her point, but she doesn't think Regina would appreciate it very much.
She can totally do it, though. No magic necessary.
"Your disapproval is noted, Miss Swan," Regina says, brushing away the locks that keep falling on her face. Her hair is so long now. Emma is not staring. "You get to say I told you so if this blows up in my face." She's smiling a little bit, all soft and affectionate, like she feels affection for Emma.
"You don't have to do this," Emma insists, unable to tamp down on the sense of urgency that seems to bubble up inside her every time she thinks of Regina out there with them, the stupid Mean Girls of Fairy Tale Land, throwing herself in the line of fire without a thought to her own safety.
It's reckless and crazy and Regina shouldn't have to do this, shouldn't even think that she doesn't have people to live for.
She might be the Savior to this town, but Emma knows a thing or two about having things to atone for.
She's not sure how to explain any of it to Regina, whose stubborn determination once transported an entire population of fairytale characters to Maine, and all she ends up with is a lame "You don't have to", hoping Regina will hear the plea in her voice. They'll find another way.
"I know, but I will," Regina says, and there's no arguing with that.
*
Emma's stretched out on the couch and half-asleep when Regina says, "There might be… things that I'm forced to keep from you," her voice a low murmur.
There's a lock of hair falling on her face again, and she makes no move to push it aside, wringing her hands together like she doesn't know what to do with them.
Emma wants to reach out and comfort her when she's like this. Regina shouldn't ever be afraid.
She settles for a mild, "I know what being undercover means, Regina."
It earns her a quick, grateful smile, a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Emma feels warm all over.
"Some stories aren't mine to tell," Regina says, eyes dark and pleading like she needs Emma to understand.
"You don't have to tell me anything," Emma tells her, firm. "I'm with you."
Hell, she still thinks it's a terrible idea, and Regina really needs to stop hatching hair-brained heroic plans with her parents of all people, but she'll go where Regina goes, play the plucky sidekick if she has to.
The Savior and the (formerly evil) Queen. They're a team. "There's no 'I' in team, remember? Okay, there's a me, but I'm pretty sure we've established that we're better off when we're doing magic together."
She didn't mean to waggle her eyebrows when she said doing magic, it just happened.
And anyway, Rule #2 of playing plucky sidekick: get the grimdark superhero to crack a smile or two with your stellar wit.
Rule #1 is always have their back, but Emma thinks she's got that covered.
The smile she gets this time is blinding. Emma couldn't look away if she wanted to.
*
She falls asleep on Regina's couch, ignoring Regina's multiple attempts to get her to move to the guest room.
There's a blanket being placed on her at some point, and she's probably dreaming the hand that rests on her cheek, gentle.
***