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Too slow to muffle her yawn, Emma ignores the glare she receives from across the table. She hasn't heard a word of what was being said and she continues to doodle on the note pad in front of her. Her presence at these weekly meetings is entirely pointless but Regina likes to use them as an excuse to check up on her whenever the two of them aren't speaking to one another, as she is the boss and shame on Emma if she ever forgets such a thing.
Fortunately for her, despite Regina's obvious display of power, the ball remains firmly in her court. A little unknown fact about Regina and Emma is that they're sleeping together. They have been sleeping together ever since she set foot in Storybrooke. Through their fights for Henry, the breaking of the curse and then Neverland, the missing year and so on and so forth, they spent many nights in secret tangled up in one another.
From enemies, to hesitant co-parents, to something that might look like friendship but is more a tolerance forged from numerous rescues, curses and big bads who aren't really big or bad at all and more—misunderstood. Except for Cruella; that woman had been just plain evil, which was a nice change at the time, at least to Emma.
A few times, their arrangement had caught on a few snags. First there was Graham who Emma had intentionally tried to use in order to get a rise out of Regina; a mistake, she admits, but not one she can do anything about at this point. Then there was the trip to the Enchanted Forest, meeting Cora, discovering Neal was the Dark One's son before finding out Cora was using Regina.
Eventually they moved passed it all and Neverland happened, Neal and Killian happened and then… didn't happen. For some reason, the two of them kept coming back together; chemistry, great sex, fate—whatever it was, it was as though they couldn't stand anyone else and resigned themselves to each other.
And along came the biggest snag of them all.
Dashing Robin Hood with his stupid lion tattoo and a fairy meddling decades ago that meant he had some sort of right to Regina, like she's nothing more than a piece of property. She knows it's hypocritical, considering she had allowed Killian to get away with the exact same treatment of her but still—this is Regina Mills, former Evil Queen and current Madam Mayor who didn't take shit from anyone and scoffed at the idea of fate.
This is the woman who defeated her sister, proclaiming her choice to change and no matter how brief, how spontaneous it was to get caught up in the idea of a soul mate, Regina had. Regina stupidly allowed him the chance regardless of whatever she and Emma had. She had sex with him, in her vault amongst all those still beating hearts and the bodies of her parents while thinking his wife lay in an eternal coma one room over.
There are no rules regarding the two of them. They aren't dating and neither have once mentioned the idea of being exclusive but there is a line, and Regina crossed it the second she tried to seek comfort from Emma by spilling the sordid details of her rendezvous. Not only was Emma strongly against the fact she slept with a married man, but she refused to offer platitudes to a woman who let someone, man or woman, treat her the way Robin had.
Simply put, she told Regina she needed to get her shit together and left.
About a week later, she learned from Snow that Robin had tried to start something again, only to be sent away and told never to return. It was around the same time Killian gave up trying to win her like some sort of prize and sailed away on his ship.
As the meeting draws to a close, she gathers her things and rises, ready to leave. She'll go back to the station and avoid the look that David never fails to send her, shutting it out behind the door of her office where she'll spend the rest of the day buried in paperwork before she returns home to think about not thinking about Regina.
"Emma."
That one small utterance, without formality or title, is enough to make her pause. She waits for the last of those present to leave and closes the door before she turns, brow silently raised. It's been three days since Regina last tried to restart something between them, having gone about it in her usual way of taking what she wants, when she wants it. Emma is a little embarrassed to admit that under any other circumstance it likely would have worked, but for the past month she has resisted any and all attempts.
Stacking files and folders in a neat pile, Regina stares down at her hands as she speaks. "I was under the impression that when I—as you so eloquently put it—had my shit together, that we would resume our arrangement."
"I never promised that," Emma replies. It had been her intention at the time, knowing she wouldn't be able to stay away. She'd almost forgotten what her life was like before Storybrooke, before Henry and Regina, before the heat and passion shared between two women under the cover of darkness. "This was never permanent."
Regina nods and her throat bobs with a swallow as she finally looks up, their eyes meeting for the first time that morning. "I've started to wonder if perhaps that was the problem all along," she says softly. "We spend all this time searching for an alternative, for someone to replace each other and in the end, we're right back where we started."
Emma huffs, the smile at the edge of her mouth devoid of amusement. "I was never trying to replace you," she scoffs. "Regardless of what Neal or Killian thought, you and I were still—whatever we were; in Neverland, in Storybrooke. We lost a year and you're all of a sudden shacking up with Robin Hood, which was fine, but you wanted more from him than you wanted from me and you were moving on, so I gave Killian a chance."
"I came back to you."
Emma laughs and the sound is no more amused than the smile had been as she rolls her eyes. "Yeah, you came back. You let him use you and then you turned around and tried to do the same thing to me. I sat there for two hours, holding you while you cried your eyes out over him and then all of a sudden you're taking my clothes off and begging me to help you forget."
She shakes her head. "For two years, there was never anyone else and not once did I ever feel like you were using me. We slept together one drunken night and then decided we wanted to do it again, so we did, over and over again and I loved every minute of it but that night? It was the first time I'd ever felt ashamed at the thought of being with you."
Guilt flashes within chestnut eyes and Emma shies away from the look, averting her gaze. Emotion is never a good thing when it comes to the two of them, not when they're like this. Anger had always been an accelerant but anything more was a risk, like adding a tank of gasoline to an already raging fire; hot, explosive but with devastation lying in wait beneath the last flicker of a dying flame.
"I know I was wrong to ask that of you," Regina murmurs after a brief silence. "I just thought—" She cuts herself off with a heavy sigh and Emma doesn't want to know, but at the same time; she does. She needs to know if she's to ever have hope of them moving passed this.
"What did you think?"
Regina exhales, the sound loud in an otherwise quiet room. "I thought that if anyone could shine a light on the darkness I was feeling, it would be you."
Emma raises her hand with a sigh and rubs the bridge of her nose, doing her best to stem the flow of frustration the declaration brings with it. They understand each other to an extent and she knows, somewhere deep down, that that understanding is what Regina refers to but there is a part of her; a tired and abused part of who she is that is reminded of how everyone thinks of her as the Savior and little else.
"You shouldn't rely on others like that," she says eventually, drawing her hand down over her face as she forces her gaze back to the brunette. "It isn't up to me to make you feel better. I'm not a security blanket you drag out of a cupboard whenever someone hurts you, only to be thrown back in when I'm not needed any more."
There is more silence and this time it stretches. Emma shifts on the balls of her feet as the discomfort settles in, and yet she remains, studying an unfamiliar expression while she waits for some kind of response. She doesn't expect Regina to sit back down, but when she does, Emma hesitates only for a second before she returns to the seat she'd occupied earlier.
"In the past," Regina starts, voice thick with what Emma recognizes as the sound of unshed tears. "Comfort was never given to me without an understanding—an expectation that it came with a price."
She raises a hand and Emma closes her mouth, the protest fading on the tip of her tongue as Regina explains, "I am not trying to make excuses for the way I treated you. I only wish to help you understand where I'm coming from and why, at times, I may do things that might seem… unorthodox—or if you prefer, perhaps selfish or ungrateful are more appropriate."
Emma slumps back in her seat, regretful in jumping to a conclusion that likely would have ended the conversation and devolved into another fight that only ever resulted in hurt feelings and a week worth of avoidance—or more likely—hurtful comments and angered threats because their son would never again allow his mothers to tear apart their little makeshift family.
"I panicked," Regina confesses quietly and Emma straightens, fully alerted by the admission. "The whole year we were in the Enchanted Forest, all I could think about was you and Henry. I knew who Robin was and I didn't care, and then we came back. I didn't remember him or how irritating I thought he was and we were back, but you weren't. I saw his tattoo and I thought maybe that was my chance, that I could let you go—that I would learn to love Robin and Roland and maybe just once, I could be happy."
She sighs and rests her elbows on the table, palms pressed to her forehead as she cradles her head in hands. "He could never compare to you," she laughs but the sound catches in a hitch of breath.
"You came back and I realized I was in love with you."
Emma yearns to reach across the table and she closes her eyes, hands balling into fists as she forces them to remain in her lap. Regina releases a shuddered breath and clears her throat. "I did the worst possible thing I could think of and afterwards, all I could think about was how empty it made me feel inside. I hated it. I knew the only way I was going to feel something was if I saw you and then there you were, sitting there on my doorstep with your ridiculous smile, spouting your stupid apologies about Henry not remembering and not warning me about it sooner."
Emma knows the rest. She remembers the exact moment when all the walls came crumbling down and Regina broke, tears welling in her eyes. She barely had time to stand before Regina stumbled into her arms, nails like claws as they sank into her back and muffled sobs vibrated against her neck. It had confused her, but her confusion never detracted from the fact she had wanted to comfort Regina without stopping to question why. All she knew was that Regina was crying, in her arms, and she cared; so she offered comfort while ignoring all the warning bells that went off inside her head.
It was never just about sex. Yes, sex had been a big part of what they were to each other but after two years? There had to be more to it, regardless of whether they were going to admit it. Just sex doesn't last that long and she'd always known, even if Regina hadn't, that there was something more there between them.
Regina chuckles and Emma snaps from her thoughts, surprised to find the brunette now staring at her. Her lips part, ready to question but once again, she's stopped by the shake of a head. "In my experience, love and emotional breakdowns go hand in hand," Regina states with a small shrug. "In your arms was the first time I'd ever felt safe. I know you didn't approve of him, but you gave me the chance to pour my heart out and offered nothing more than warmth and comfort. It was what I needed, but it was also alien to me—to us. I tried to turn it into something else and for that, I am sorry."
Speechless, Emma merely watches as Regina rises. She was expecting a lot when Regina stopped her from leaving; excuses, explanations, promises—she would have expected another attempt at seduction over an apology and here she is, wondering how she's meant to respond to something like that.
"You should probably get back to work," Regina suggests, smiling down at her even as she wraps arms protectively about a silk-clad torso. "We don't want your father coming down here and demanding I set you free from my evil clutches."
Pushing her chair back, Emma slowly stands and she feels her own smile manifesting in the twitch of her lips. She glances over at the clock on the wall and her eyes widen, surprised to find they've been there almost two hours. "If he hasn't come now, he's probably resigned himself to thinking you've killed me already."
Rounding the table, Regina moves toward the door and Emma follows. "Then perhaps you'd be so kind as to dispel the mob that is surely forming outside."
"No promises," Emma grins, soaking in the half-hearted glare she receives in turn. She considers the thought circling in her mind as they stand there, nothing but space between them before she leans in, lips brushing a warm cheek as she whispers, "Invite me to dinner."
She pulls back and the desire to free a dark lip as it disappears behind teeth is almost too much. "I'm sorry too, you know?" Regina inclines her head but Emma isn't done, needing to clarify, to at least get out some of her thoughts on what had been said. "I didn't mean what I said and… I think I understand it better now and I want it—us, but we should probably talk some more before rushing into anything."
Nibbling her lip a little longer, Regina releases it after a moment and nods. "Seven o'clock," she says and Emma smiles. "Don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it."