Chapter Text
Earth Date: 2264
Star Date: 2264.83
Planet: Earth
The yellow speeder bike came to a squeaking halt alongside the curb. It hovered there, a foot off the ground, before Emma cut the engine and it lowered with a droning whine.
“I know, I know,” Emma muttered. She patted the yellow cover guiltily and slid off the seat. “You’ll get a new motivator just as soon as I wrap my next job.”
Sharp clacks proceeded inside and through the turbolift doors. Punching her floor with a fist, Emma leaned back against the handrail. She sighed, daring to look at her reflection. All four walls of the lift flashed back an image of herself in skin tight leather – black as slick oil – and a white shirt, sequined with silver. A long, slinky black waistcoat hung off one shoulder as she shrugged out of the thing. Her typically flowing blonde hair was pulled back in a braid down her back that was so tight it triggered a migraine at her twitching temples. A grim line had formed on her dusky red lips.
She stared a moment too long and received a dirty look for her trouble. It wasn’t quite Emma Swan, and yet there she stood in the flesh.
Alone in the whirring lull of the turbolift, Emma bent over to slip off her heels. She didn’t have to see the straps’ indentations to know the pricey footwear was killing her. Were shapely calves really worth the razor wire cutting into her poor dogs? Her bank account certainly didn’t leave her much choice.
“Blast it.”
The heels earned some blunt force into the carpeted floor before they were snagged up. She kept them out of necessity or else she would find herself without a career. It wouldn’t be the worst thing yet to happen to Emma Swan, but in the 34 years she’d been alive and kicking she had learned that it would not be the last.
Extricating herself from the nightmare ride, Emma trudged down the hallway and pressed her thumb on the biometric lock. It hissed open like a fresh breeze and for the first time that night Emma smiled. Genuinely.
Upon entering, she was greeting with nothing but the reassuring creak underfoot. Waxed hardwood floors whined to her bare feet padding across it. She tossed her heels in the hallway closet, forgotten but not rejected.
Ambling further into the flat, Emma drove her fingers into her hair, disentangling it from the braid. She passed through her living room with a lax expression as if she’d been doing this for years.
The high-rise apartment was the only thing about living in Boston that she appreciated. It was located high enough among the skyscrapers to escape the ground drudgery of humanoid interaction and adequately spacious to make up for the closet-size quarters since.
The square footage was more than she needed or would ever need. In fact, if 18-year-old Emma had known she’d end up on this side of town, rubbing elbows with the moderately wealthy, there would have been enough suspicion to send herself straight to the psych ward.
But working adult Emma learned to adapt to change as she always had. Possessions piled up with every paycheck while her nonexistent interest in the cultural arts blossomed. Walls became occupied by holoprints and paintings alike. Dressers and coffee tables hosted small sculptures, elaborately blown glass vases, and way more breakable décor someone as clumsy as Emma should own.
An expensive selection of vintage wines decorated the rack in her kitchen as did various culinary spices imported from exotics like Dagomir and Bota Baui. Not that Emma spent a lot of time cooking. What she couldn’t get on the run she ordered in. If anything, the lavish kitchen was for show. She did, however, keep an emergency stash of ice cream in the freezer, beer and orange juice in the fridge, and an assortment of snacks stuffed in the pantry. She had lost interest in breakfast. It didn’t seem important in the scheme of things.
She had done well for herself thanks to the business she’d somehow landed in. She took to it like a Lacertan to swamp land. Work in bail bonds turned out to be a fair, honest means of living. In the beginning, Emma had her doubts what with Killian’s sterling advice. He said, in no uncertain terms, that the line of work she was considering was a diseased limb of the scurvy rotten body called “due process.”
Of course what pirate hadn’t had their run-ins with the law? It was a badge of honor among thieves and common nature to get trailed by every living bail bondsman in the galaxy. If you weren’t hunted ruthlessly from one star system to the next, you couldn’t call yourself a pirate. No self-respecting scoundrel like Killian would willing let Emma fall into such an honorable business, but she was determined. She wanted to keep herself on the straight and narrow, as if she owed it to anyone other than herself. Emma called her decision sensible. Killian called it a vaping shame.
Sensible, that’s what Emma had become. She lived her life by sensible and earned that image of the person staring back at her every night up the lift.
Emma left her bedroom, changed from her leather pants and annoying glitter top into much more practical dress. She hummed to the feel of her long cotton sleeve and slinky sweatpants. Though it had been a early night for her, it did not dim her relief upon being back home. A typical night either found her in polished courtrooms, stuffy office buildings, or some hot new restaurant along the east coast. And the company never got any sleazier.
It was hardly a date – more like a trap. Her “date” skipped out on her court appearance only to charm a new online friend into candlelit dinner. New Friend happened to be a very determined, take-no-prisoners bond agent. To make a long story short, Emma got some miles in those four-inch heels and hauled that sorry ass bitch back to court.
Emma mentally dusted her hands off. All in a night’s work, she thought with a smirk.
Getting comfortable for whatever remained of her Friday night proved simple. She powered on her big screen holo with a snap her fingers and flicked her hand in the air to sift through the channels. When she found something of moderate interest to her, she raised the volume and proceeded to the kitchen.
The fridge opened and she blindly reached for a beer. The cool bottle felt reassuring in her hands and she pressed it to her forehead with a guttural moan. Condensation mixed with beads of perspiration.
Why did the woman have to run? Why did they always think they could get away from her? Emma knew escape routes like her life history had been veined through with them. Ironic, she thought, that after so many years of evading hardship and responsibility, she was now the one chasing down a lost cause.
“A beautiful lost cause,” Emma mumbled to herself as she made her way over to the sofa, “but a broke one at that.”
She cracked open the bottle and downed half of it in just three pulls. On the third, a sharp knock came from the door and she sputtered. The froth fizzled and dripped all down her chin and she quickly sopped it up with her sleeve.
“What the hell?!”
Her shout rang throughout the lonesome apartment and received another round of knocks in reply. She shot up off the sofa and stormed for the front door. It was just her luck that after a short-lived steak dinner and several blocks of harassment to her feet, her night had to be further ruined by an unexpected guest.
“Who in blazes…?”
Like her speeder’s dying engine, Emma’s voice dragged off. Her mouth dropped open like a monger fish. Her weight sagged to one foot as she stared openly like the pathetic human she likened herself to.
Her voice came out thin and withering to nothing. “Oh my gods.”
The boy, ten-years-old and smiling from ear to ear, took the shock like a prodigy. When he hugged Emma around her middle, he did so gently as if he expected the stiff response.
Emma stared at the hallway, one hand hesitating behind his head and the other hovering over his back. A hundred questions went through her mind like racing starfighters. She questioned to the point of doubting her own sanity. The hows and whys stacked up like a grossly tall order of pancakes – too golden for her conscience and an upset to her stomach.
Torn between crying and throwing up, she realized she had yet to greet her own son.
Shaking like a faulty ion engine, Emma enfolded herself around him and took pains not to squeeze too tight or too little. She couldn’t know what he wanted from her. She was too afraid to ask. His brown mop of hair brushed her bobbing throat and she nearly choked on a sob. He smelled so good, so clean. He felt soft, much like she did when he turned those puppy eyes on her from over the maple syrup bottle.
“H-henry,” she stuttered, unsure how to phrase it. After all these years of not saying his name, her own voice felt lodged in her throat. “You’re here. You’re here?”
If she were half as spaced out as she felt, Emma would be waking up from this dream. She should have been. She’d experienced this same exact dream for so long it’s as if it had become routine. But why wasn’t she waking up? Why was Henry smiling at her like she was the greatest mother in the universe and not heckling her into one of the seven fiery hells?
Be it a dream, a nightmare, or a revelation, Henry felt real in her arms – as real as the day he lay squalling red and wrinkly in her arms.
Henry withdrew too soon for Emma’s liking and welcomed himself into her home. She didn’t have anything to say about it. How could she? He had every right to walk all over her if it pleased him.
Emma, still frozen in the doorway, hardly noticed his rummaging in the fridge. She didn’t blink back to reality until the door slammed shut.
Henry popped the cap off of the orange juice and took a swig. “I’ll give you a minute while you catch up.” He swiped his mouth with the edge of his jacket sleeve before making himself at home on one of the kitchen stools.
Emma tilted her head to the side, mouth hung open a little. All she could think was how grown up her son looked. He dressed smartly in a pair of ironed blue jeans, Chuck Taylors, and a jacket that fit like a glove and was finished off with a scarf. What a perfect looking kid, she thought.
The sloshing juice carton triggered Emma’s features to concede a frown. What a wise guy. “Hey, use a glass!” It spilled from her before she knew what she was saying.
Henry rolled his eyes with a sigh. He muttered something about home and rules. Emma was still too stunned to pay close attention.
“What are you doing here?” Emma asked, breathless. Her face expressed myriad forms of shock, terror, and pure bliss.
Brow raised, Henry responded with the perfect class of sarcasm. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
Emma’s brows scrunched. “When did you start acting like a smart alek?”
“When you left with me with Regina.”
The way he said it didn’t quite scratch the surface of malice. Despite the wound Emma spent four years reopening, the little smirk she received seemed to convey Henry’s resilience. No hard feelings, huh? Emma would disagree. She had not punished herself nearly as much as she deserved. She needed Henry to say those words with anguish. She needed to see her betrayal in his eyes and feel it burn through her skin at hearing him say she left him behind. She would have gladly have given him the vibroknife to resurrect that pain – if it pleased him.
“Okay,” Emma sighed and shrugged as if giving up. She sealed the front door closed and trudged up to the kitchen island, meeting Henry’s eyes from across it. “You must have some questions for me.”
“How long have you been on Earth? And why do you live here in Boston?”
The questions hit Emma like a blaster shot to the chest. Of course he led with one of the most difficult. Emma hesitated in answering because she still was coming to terms with it. The underlying issue didn’t escape her either. The moment he asked, she felt rocked to her core and wavering on the brink of collapse. It resounded in her head: Why do you live in Boston and not with your own son?
Emma wet her lips, shifting on her socked feet. “Two years. I’ve been on Earth two years. Boston for a year and a half.”
“What do you do? I mean, how can you afford this place?”
“I do some work for a bail bonds agency here in the city. It pays well and I keep my own hours.”
“What’s that? Bail bonds…?”
“It’s just a fancy word for bounty hunting. But a bit more legitimate.”
“Oh.” He fell silent for a moment. “Do you arrest people?”
Emma’s lips tightened again before she spoke. “No, not really.”
“Do you like your job?”
“I guess so.”
Henry’s eyes panned down. “You’re not really answering any of my questions,” he mumbled.
“What do you mean? Of course I am.”
“You’re talking to me, but you’re not talking to me.”
His eyes soothed Emma’s panic. He pleaded by those big blue eyes she never had the will to turn down, not in the past when it was past his bedtime and he mumbled sleepy requests like “One more stowy, Momma.” Now her little pilot was all grown, self-tied shoes and all, and asking for one more story. It was the one Emma had dreaded telling him, but having him here changed that. She couldn’t evade him now, not when he was asking her point blank. Not when he looked so lost without explanation.
“You’re right. I’m not. I’m sorry.” Emma looked down at her drumming fingers on the marble top. She had tried and failed to mask the casualness. The alternative didn’t suit her. If she allowed herself to make a connection with this child, she would lose it. If she allowed him in, she would feel the weight of a thousand wrongs done unto him.
“Okay, so…” Hedging by threading her fingers through her hair, Emma squinted to find the words. “So after I left the Storybrooke I did a lot of traveling. It didn’t do much thinking – just flying. I went from system to system, spending nights in foreign hotels, sometimes a hovercar. I hitched a ride with these miners one time and woke up a few hundred credits short. Money wasn’t really an issue because there was always room in the cargo hold, but I always slept with one eye open from then on.”
Emma chuckled through a cringe at the memory of having lost all her money that night. Truth be told, she had dropped more credits in a card game than to those grubby hands.
Henry’s brows inched up as she spoke. He hadn’t have a clue where she’d been all this time, but to hear his own mother was slumming it on backworlds like a bum?
“So you were broke?” Henry asked, astonished. “How were you able to buy clothes and food and stuff?”
“Hey, at least I wasn’t a slave to monthly rent. Living out of one suitcase didn’t really bother me. I relocated a lot growing up, not knowing where I’d be from one day to the next. I liked it. I thought that was a normal lifestyle. And to live like that again…” Emma paused, eyebrows pinching together. “It… well, I guess it felt like freedom, but it wasn’t the same. You know?”
Henry’s discomfort showed in the twisting mouth, but he nodded all the same.
“When I got really strapped for credits I called in a favor. Killian Jones helped set me up with a few inner rim contractors – the inner rim is known to be slightly more honest.”
“What did you do?”
“I was hired out as a tracker. Rare objects, mostly. The kind of possessions people leave hidden or locked up after they die.”
Henry perked up at the mention of ‘rare objects.’ “Like treasure?”
Emma smirked. The kid hadn’t changed at all. “Sort of like.”
“Cool.”
The smirk sagged. Emma fought control over her facial expression and couldn’t know if she succeeded or not. Her cheeks were frozen and burning at the same time. “Cool,” she murmured with a nod of agreement. “When work dried up, Killian roped me into the occasional side job. We had some adventures, that’s for sure.” Emma’s face split into a smile, a first that night and some nights since.
This brightened Henry further. Rising to his tiptoes, he hunched on the bar to get closer. “Did you guys get into fights?”
“Many.”
“Did you get hurt bad?”
Emma snorted, hardly holding back on smug sentimentality. “Killian earned a scar on his left ear from a blaster graze.”
Seeing her so close to how he remembered her, smirking and cavalier, triggered a sadness in Henry he tried so many years to avoid. It proved impossible to ignore, but to see it in the flesh made his chest prickle. A graveness fell upon him like a wet blanket. “You really didn’t get hurt?”
Emma detected the unspoken sentiment. Of course he knew her well enough – remembered her well enough – to understand that Emma would downplay the more perilous events. She’d fix a brave face in light of any battle wounds be it a paper cut or a near-death-experience on a hovertram going one hundred miles an hour. That particular vibroknife dual took a few years off her life if that near fall was anything to go by.
“It was years ago.” She shook her head, offering him soft certainty. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“So you were a bounty hunter for two years. What made you come Earthside?”
“I wanted something more convenient. Being a bail bonds agent gave me steady work and a place to crash at night. While jetting around the galaxy had its upsides, the years had been catching up to me. I needed a change.”
Henry’s face screwed up like he’d just ate something sour. “That’s something old people say.”
“Hate to break it to you, kid, but I’m not that young anymore.”
“Why Boston?”
He said it so innocently, head tipped and voice peaked like the preadolescent boy he was. He knew as she did that “Why Boston” was the one thing that would decide the course of present events. Where she made home hinged upon their relationship and their future. The question of “Why Boston,” which was located just a few miles from where Henry called home, had been something Emma asked herself every day since signing her lease.
Emma noticed the orange juice carton still in his hands, so she walked to the cabinet while she talked. She wasn’t deflecting, she convinced herself. She just couldn’t look him in the eyes and lie to him. “Familiar territory, I guess. Cosmofleet Academy is a comfort, and having it close by reminds me of the good times.”
“Has it?”
Breath suspended in her lungs, Emma raised her brows expectantly. “Has what?”
“Has the academy given you good memories?”
Emma stared. “Mostly,” she replied and slid the glass over. Her hand went up to scratch the back of her neck, clearing her throat. She returned to her place at the bar and leaned on her forearms. She watched him pour the juice, unassisted like the mature kid he was, and panned occasionally to her cuticles. “Henry, how did you find me?” She carried it out so methodically it must have sounded like she didn’t trust her own voice. Her gaze burned into her nails, which she picked and rubbed mindlessly.
A drop of juice slipped down his chin and he caught it with his sleeve, surprised that something like juice could escape him. It was such a Swan move.
“The Holonet,” Henry answered simply.
“Okay, but how did you get here?”
“Well, there’s no mass transportation where I live. Misthaven is pretty small, so I had to walk to the bus stop.”
“How did you get the credits?”
“I borrowed Regina’s credit card.”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “Christ, seriously?”
“I borrowed it. She’ll get it back as soon as we return.”
“We?”
If Emma’s mouth could open further it would have smacked the kitchen counter. This was not happening. He did not come there to drag her to simpleton Small Town USA. He didn’t seriously think she’d agree to this, right?
“Henry…” she started, blinking erratically to this nonsense, “I can’t just up and leave. I have clients that rely on me.”
“But you said you keep your own hours.”
“… Yeah.”
Henry shrugged, smiling like he had the whole thing planned, which Emma wouldn’t put past him. “So take a few days off. Hey, I’ll show you this cool McDonalds on the way. It’s pirate-themed with boat shaped seats that hover around. We’ll get a Big Mac and milkshakes and eat in the car and everything.”
His eyes were fantastically wide. The very idea of eating in the car was an outlandish concept, yet something he’d always wanted to try. This was his first chance to slip away from ever-watchful eyes, and he was not going to let a drive thru adventure go to waste.
“I…” Emma’s mouth opened and closed. Finally, she folded her arms over her chest and put her metaphorical foot down. “You know what? No.”
Henry’s dream of milkshakes and burgers faded. “No?”
“Yeah, no. I’m not going to Fogheaven with you to –“
“Misthaven.”
“Whatever. No, we’re not doing this. Regina would go nuclear. She’s probably already sent out a special forces team to find you.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Emma tugged her chin down in a firm nod. “Damn right.”
Henry nodded. “So you should probably drive me home. I mean, I could take the bus back…”
Oh… Emma thought, eyes narrowing. “Kid, you are going to have a career in politics. And I seriously don’t know how to feel about that.”
He snickered into his juice glass.
“But you have to understand: I am driving you back – that’s it. Don’t make any more of this than it is.”
Genuine confusion weighed Henry’s features to a frown. “What do you mean?”
Emma took a deep breath. “I mean,” she gestured to the apartment with all its common clutter and lived in quality, “this is where I live, Henry.” She bit her lip, careful not to use the word ‘home’ or she might risk drudging up a conflict that neither of them were ready for.
In a way, Emma needed Henry to know why she never came back, but that would force him to confront the magnitude of his abandonment. She didn’t want to rush him (or herself for that matter), so she dared not bring it up or reveal where her home really lied.
“Look,” sighed Emma, “I know we haven’t see each other in a while. It must have been just as hard on you as it has been on me. As surprising as it is to find you on my doorstep, it is a good surprise. If you want to hang out with me, that’s fine. If you want a relationship, I can accept that.” She tipped her head, fighting back the sea gradually filling her eyes. “I’d love that. And you know how much I love you, Henry. But just because we found each other doesn’t mean we’re going to live happily ever after. I’ve raised you better than to think that’s how the galaxy works. I have responsibilities here in Boston, you have Mist… whatever. You can’t be skipping class just to be with me.”
“But it’s hardly a school night!” complained Henry, whiny voice and all.
Emma frowned, having to peek at her fridge calendar to be sure. “Tomorrow’s Friday.”
“Friday’s are basically a weekend.”
It was hilarious, really, the lengths he would go to stretch the truth. Cutting school, staying up past his bedtime, skipping homework… Emma hadn’t gotten much of this when she raised Henry because he was barely past first grade. Though she hadn’t looked forward to those tantrums back then, she couldn’t deny they were an essential hallmark of parenting. Missing out on the negative as well as the positive aspects of raising her child haunted Emma.
She narrowed his eyes at him, making fun of his poor defense. “Fridays are Fridays.”
Henry rolled his eyes.
The very way he did it reminded Emma of Regina. It shouldn’t have shocked her, or caused a spike of jealousy. Kids imprinted on the people they were around most often – she remembered that in one of her academy psych courses. Being around the bossy queen of scorn had to have made some impression on the boy (rolling eyes among other cues she’d noticed).
“This is where my life is now,” Emma asserted quietly. She convinced herself it to be true. The mantra had been repeated often enough that she didn’t stutter. “Boston is where the work is. I know you want to be close by, and I want that too, but I can’t just relocate. Living in that town… well, Regina wouldn’t like that.”
Henry’s brows quivered with the extent of his frown. “How do you know what Regina would or wouldn’t like?”
Emma blinked back in shock. This was the first instance Henry was rebelling against her, and with such spite. Even as a toddler when he didn’t get what he wanted it was just a matter of batting his eyes. No reason to resort to petulant foot stomps and back talk.
Noticing her reaction, Henry softened his tone. “People change, Mom. You’ll never know it until you see it.”
Mom. It was the first time she’d ever heard that word from his mouth. It had always been ‘Momma’ or ‘Ma.’
Combatting the sting from her eyes, Emma sucked in a breath and let it out easy. Nodding with a sense of emotionless relief, she gestured to the bedroom.
“Give me a minute to change. I’ll drive you back, but let’s not expect anything, okay?”
It wasn’t really a matter of whether or not Regina changed. Everything from here to Misthaven hinged on Emma and if she had justified four years of soul searching.
* * *
The floating highway bulbs had a strobe light effect as Emma’s hovercar zoomed on. They had been driving for an hour and the fog had grown as they neared their destination. The roiling mist had an eerie effect on Emma who happened to be the only one who saw the irony.
Henry, calculated as ever (or just of late), milked Emma’s cordiality for all it was worth. He drilled her for stories from her piracy days, what treasure she hunted down, which enemies she exchanged blaster shots with, everything. It proved difficult, though, when only half of the company showed their enthusiasm.
As she did back in her Boston apartment, Emma filled Henry in on the past four years like she was filling out a job application. She remained painfully detached but friendly nonetheless. There were moments when her voice lost durasteel, when it edged and caught at a junction in her past that prevented her from explaining why, for example, she never sent Henry a card for his seventh birthday or the subsequent ones after.
Feeling a sense of feebleness twisting her gut, Emma drove her story on as she did the vehicle they sailed along in. Henry didn’t seem disappointed to get the child friendly version nor did he notice what she was leaving out: the thoughts, feelings, and regrets that made up most of those four years.
In between stories, Emma failed to settle back into memory. It was like trying to get comfortable on a lumpy sofa. No amount of repositioning could get her to sit well with what she had done.
Emma Swan – the Emma Swan of a foregone time – had lived a very different life than the one she led before saying goodbye to the Storybrooke a second time. Four years ago and on the tipping point of war, she had found herself a no man in no man’s land. She had the title, sure, and a fan club to her annoyance, but sitting in that fighter between two armadas and sweating bullets over how to unit an entire faction made her feel like a nobody. She wasn’t meant to lead that fight. She hadn’t the training to.
Even after it was all said and done, when the Freedom Raiders had been persuaded and Cosmofleet came to their senses, Emma still had her reservations. Regina’s speech to the fleet commanders had been a riveting example of leadership and inspiration, but it rustled up doubts in Emma she could no longer push to the sidelines. Regina unknowingly forced her to confront her future. Emma realized something paramount to her life and those around her: she wasn’t qualified to lead the life she had led – not as a first officer and not as a legendary hero. Regina spoke of the stuff Emma just simply did not have in supply.
In hindsight, Emma had hope that her captain could have limped her along a few more years and taught her how to become a commander of her very own starship, but eventually her patience would have run out. Emma would have been made bitter, Regina would have felt resentment, and it would not have ended well.
Happily ever after hadn’t been something Emma truly believed in, yet she could not accept all those relationships she made on the Storybrooke to fall apart because of her juvenile behavior. Something had to be done before it all went nuclear. Something had to change. It was only at the galaxy’s great sigh of relief and subsequent celebration that Emma finally made a decision about where her life would go from there.
It would be a bold face lie to say those four years without Henry and the Storybrooke had flown by. Frankly, it was a kind of torture she couldn’t describe. Somewhere along the way Emma lost hope of every finding that person everyone needed her to be. After all the endless rationalizations and vehement denials of selfishness, Emma finally came home.
But it hadn’t been the home she was looking for. That became clear soon enough. When she returned planetside, Henry and Regina were her first and only destination. She looked them up on the Holonet and sped her way through two traffic violations to arrive at a house in a quaint suburb of Maine.
Gaping out the windshield, Emma had realized ‘house’ was a serious understatement. The monstrosity was painted white with black shutters and enclosed by a neatly sheared hedge. It had a second floor balcony, a trellis clambered with ivy, and pillars, pillars of gods’ sakes! It was like one fourth of the Old World White House, and her son had been living there all this time.
The mansion’s splendor offended her a bit. Emma could not give this kind of wealth to Henry even if she took every job offered to her. But she wasn’t stupid enough to think he cared about more for a house than her. Henry wasn’t the shallow, materialistic child she raised him to be. The offense she took to seeing Mills Manor didn’t stem so much from Henry’s loss, but her own. She knew what it felt like to live in poverty and could not stand for her own child to grow up like that. She wanted better for him.
After two years of wondering, Emma finally had proof. Life was good to Henry, perhaps even better for him. It hadn’t been the reunion she hoped for, but to see her son play at the park with his new guardian, clinging to her in fits and giggles… This Henry was happy. This Henry didn’t belong to her any longer. He clutched at someone who could tend to his needs and expand his heart. Henry had that woman, that unrecognizably content woman, who had already given him so much and didn’t look to be slowing down and whom loved him just as much as he loved her.
What Emma saw that day made a crack in her heart. After years of yearning, Regina had her family now. She was brimming over with happiness, and Emma didn’t have the spite to hate her for it. The overwhelming joy on that face told her that Regina had no more room in her heart for an orphan and wayward spacer like Emma Swan.
Lodged in time without a path to follow, Emma turned her back on that family in the park. She broke her promise like the selfish girl Regina accused her as, tucked tail, and never returned to Misthaven.
Until now.
Emma’s thumbs drummed an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel. She shot sneaking glances from the corner of her eye to gage Henry’s silence. He had since nodded off, bless him, and was completely ignorant of her prying visitation.
The viscous fog began to obscure Emma’s vision so she powered up her forward beams. The dual swaths of light cut a path in the distance. It had been a long, lonely road after having descended from the airway to hover along solid ground. Emma squinted in her rearview mirror to see the same fog she’d been flying through for the past two hours. Henry wasn’t kidding when he said his town didn’t get a lot of traffic. Misthaven was a ghost town, and the one road leading into it a forgotten piece of history.
Sure enough, the hovercar’s headlights picked up a sign ahead. Some of the letters looked bolder than others, evidencing its frequent restoration. So Old World it appeared ready to crumble at the first passing car, Emma shook her head. What in seven hells was she doing here?
At their passing of the “Welcome to Misthaven” sign, Emma nudged Henry awake. He had always been a heavy sleeper. Not much could rouse the kid unless it involved the aromas of a hearty breakfast.
Grumbling at having been startled awake, Henry looked around the interior of the car. A rolling Styrofoam coffee cup tapped against his shoe, there was wear and tear on the dashboard, and the seat cushion was so inflated it was as if it hadn’t been sat in. When he saw the blonde-haired woman next to him, he registered the past few hours with a grin plastered across his proud, boyish face.
Emma suffered a pang at seeing him scrub his eyes by the fists of his hands. She missed out on so much and lost the opportunity to impress on him the little things like pinching her face to show disgust, hooking her thumbs in her back pockets in a moment of boredom, or stomping her boots extra hard when she had a vibroax to grind with a superior officer.
Despite the loss of all that, he still woke up like her little pilot. At least that much hadn’t changed about her baby boy.
Emma gripped the steering wheel and tossed her head back to keep the tears at bay. Henry gave a shake of his head and made nothing of it. It was just that hair flippy thing girls did. Gods knew Regina did it all the time.
“We’re almost there,” Henry said, straightening up in his seat. “You’re going to walk me to the door, right?”
“Y-you want me to get out of the car?”
“Yeah, that’s the idea.”
Emma squirmed in her seat. “I thought I just agreed to dropping you off.”
“Well, I didn’t agree to not hearing from you all this time, so you can do me this one favor.”
“Hey, you know you’re going to see me again. We can Skype after school tomorrow. Until then, I think I’ll just drop you off, how about that?” Emma’s expression turned to some warped version between a smile and a cringe.
“Are you spaced out?” Henry practically squealed, making Emma wince further. “You have to come! If Regina knew I came back by myself, she’d go berserk!”
“I’m sure it will be okay.”
“She’s going to kill me!”
Emma cackled and tipped her head condescendingly. “I highly doubt it.”
“How do you know what’s she’s capable of? You haven’t known her the past four years.”
“I can’t just take you at your word that she’s been a doting, nonaggressive part of your life?”
Henry was shaking his head. “She might do something to me. You better come with.”
An extreme roll of the eyes and two intersections later they rolled to a stop at the house. The sight of it stirred him like no smelling salts could. Emma hadn’t even put the vehicle in park before Henry was ripping open the door.
Emma stared after his fleeing form and realized that this was more than a house. To Henry, this was home, the place where his heart lived now. And to further instill that message, a woman came bursting out the front door and sprinting towards him as fast as stilettos allowed.
Feeling dead to the galaxy, Emma bucked up the courage to get out of the car and approach the gate that swung restless in Henry’s wake.
Not a second after those heels came to a halt, Regina barreled into him, desperately out of breath. She surrounded the boy in her arms. Her mouth hung open in awe of his return yet with an enduring sense of dread that this might not be real. The concern frazzling her every nerve had her burying her face in his hair, bombarding him with messy kisses while she shut her eyes in gratitude.
Emma steeled her way up the path and stopped just short of the reunion. She stood there, shuffling her feet and shifting her eyes from the ground to some vague spot on Regina (not her eyes). She hooked her thumbs in her back pockets and looked about as unwelcome as she felt.
Henry seemed none too bothered at being suffocated. There were no awkward limbs finding a way in the embrace, no whining remarks or complaints. Content to just snuggle into the warm body, he went about it so unguarded, so unlike a Swan.
When they parted, Regina took him by the shoulders and stared him down. “Henry,” she intoned heavily with equal parts relief and admonishment, “what were you thinking? You cannot simply leave like that without consulting me. You could have been hurt or lost. I was worried sick!”
Her voice strained and wobbled with the elevated tone of her worry. It finally occurred to Henry how badly his little stunt affected her. He hated seeing her cry and to have her on the verge of breaking down like this shattered his very heart.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gravely. She forgave him instantly with a tilted head and a touch to his cheek. He instantly brightened. “But I wasn’t lost. I got a ride.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in nonchalance.
Regina looked over his shoulder to see none other than Emma Swan. She had to stifle a gasp. Before she could register what she was doing, her eyes drew down Emma’s figure. At the back of her mind she noted the unchanged curves and muscularity with all its well-defined qualities. Emma wore a leather jacket, white top, skinny blue jeans, and boots so common they could pass for a homeless hand-me-down. Regina had to stifle a growl at the red monstrosity. Emma had the gall to wear that gods damned jacket when she knew her captain hated its very existence.
Eyes broadening to the once over, Emma noticed with horror the clothes she had threw on. It had been an unconscious choice, a mistake really, and one her captain would surely ream her out for. Vaporize me, Emma thought, and throw me in the seventh hell. This was not how she expected to spend her last night on Earth.
“Hey.”
Regina responded by pursing her lips. Her eyes didn’t reveal much, even as they were forced off Emma’s. She swallowed before turning for the door. “Come inside.”
Emma opened her mouth in hesitation. Was that an invitation? Or was she talking to Henry?
“You as well, Miss Swan.”
Oh, Emma thought. The title disclosed more about how the course of the evening would follow and Emma would be remiss to say she was a little disappointed.
Regina sighed at the heavy thuds of heels dragging.
Next to her, Henry smirked. The recurrent grip Regina’s hand was giving his shoulder revealed more than she would have admitted out loud.
Once inside, Regina instructed Emma to wait in the study while she put Henry to bed. She said so without the slightest eye contact. Emma couldn’t blame her.
“Wait,” Henry insisted.
Pausing midstride on the stairs, Regina gripped the banister and watched as he surged back to Emma.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Henry looked up at Emma with those big blue eyes, “right?”
Emma smiled despite the question behind it. What he was actually asking made her taste bile at the back of her throat. He wanted to know if he would ever see her again, if she would leave him again.
“Course, kid.” She merrily nudged a finger under his chin and gave a soft laugh.
Henry returned the grin and scrambled for the stairway, which had been occupied not seconds ago.
When Emma finally ripped her frown away, she passed through the doorway as instructed. The study was made warm by a lit fireplace. Flames sputtered up from the glowing firewood and gave Emma a foreign sense of peace. It didn’t last as long as she’d like. Her gaze became drawn to the framed holograms decorating the mantle. Flickering movement of a boy in full winter gear caught her eye. It was Henry – six, maybe seven-years-old – gripping the reigns of a sled as it weaved down a slope. The ride was about as steep as someone of Regina’s protective nature would allow for him to venture.
Breath held in suspension, Emma stared at the hologram as it looped continuously, she remembered to breathe again she dared a look at the next one. This one caused her heart to leap into her throat. Her eyes yawned open like a pair of green wormholes. The hologram depicted a round, frosted cake with an absurd amount of candles. There was no doubt by the haphazard way in which they stuck into the cake that Henry decorated it. But, to Emma, the cake wasn’t the primary subject, not when the woman it was being bequeathed to had stolen her breath away.
Regina’s mouth hung open in shock and awe. Her eyes sparkled as she held the pose, giggling in spite of the ache in her cheeks. It was exaggerated and silly and so unlike the Captain Mills of Emma’s past.
Bafflement had Emma blinking at the sight. This hologram did not match the model citizen and dignified officer she had known all these years. Regina never seemed to be the type of person who broadcasted their birthday. She hardly took a personal day off of duty much less celebrated one day to herself out of the entire year.
Emma couldn’t piece together the puzzle that was Regina Mills any more now than she had four years ago in a turbolift on the Storybrooke. Regina had been right about so many things, chief among them being Emma’s not knowing the woman off duty and out of uniform. It embarrassed Emma to reddening cheeks and sagging shoulders that it took her till now to realize.
One thing about Regina that did not surprise was how her bond with Henry had strengthened. While it was true that Emma had only seen her captain offer affection around the boy, there was something different about the way Regina’s hands clawed through his hair that night, how she stared into his eyes with an intensity that could power a solar system. It was love – Emma recognized it because as a mother it was the stuff keeping her own heart from giving out. There had been pure, unadulterated love in Regina’s eyes and Emma wouldn’t be shocked to know she carried it with her wherever she went.
It became especially clear from the holograms Emma couldn’t stray from that Regina and Henry had taken care of each other these past four years. Henry’s birth mother might not have been around, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have that kind of relationship with his new guardian. There was bound to be some kind of deep connection there.
Suddenly, something heart wrenching occurred to Emma. Since Henry showed up earlier that night he had been sparing with physical contact. He had only instigated that one hug and that was it. But then here comes Regina, sprinting from out of the house, and Henry just clung to every part of her. They gravitated towards one another as if she were the only moon in his orbit.
Emma’s breath rattled in her chest as she looked through the timeline of holograms. A perfect little family, so healthy, so safe, so happy. She did not see this coming. Ironically, it was the last thing that occurred to her when making her decision to leave all those years ago. It just didn’t click in that thick, vaporized little brain of hers that they might not want her to come back.
The pictures staring back at her with all their unabashed honesty fulfilled every question she ever wracked herself over. The two loves of her life had moved on. They didn’t need her anymore.
When Regina returned, she closed the heavy door behind her. “Thank you for bringing him home.” There was no flinching to it.
Spinning away from the mantelpiece, Emma cleared the thickness from her throat and said, “No problem,” and then frowned at her words because this was just too weird.
“I take it he blindsided you with his visit?”
“Well, it’s not like I expected him to show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night.”
Regina’s eyes met Emma’s in a durasteel look before they flit away. The light from the fireplace cast flickering shadows on her face, leaving any defined appearance up to Emma’s imagination. Regina used a fire iron – her favorite ruby studded poker from her Presidio office – to tend the fire.
The stirred flames helped Emma gage Regina’s expression better. She quickly wished the shadows back because there was nothing but a blank, emotionless face – a shell of the woman Regina used to be. Blame caused Emma’s chest to tighten.
“Does he do this often?”
Regina snorted. “What, knock on the doors of ex-fleet officers?”
It could have been worse. She could have said ex-mothers. Emma shot her a withering gaze and explained, “Sneaking out after dark without leaving a memo.”
“It seems to run in the family.”
The growl rolled deep in Emma’s chest. “I followed protocol the first time and sent in my two weeks’ notice. And as far as…” She floundered in the sound of crackling flames and a ticking mantle clock. “… At least I checked in with you before leaving.”
Regina tipped her head to that, albeit condescendingly. “It is better than a memo.”
“Can we cut the crap, please? Gods, Regina.”
“Fine.” Regina crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if to ward off something. “You can start by explaining why you’re here.”
“Seriously? I came to drop Henry off. Why do you think I came here?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps to put ideas in his head about how long you’ll be sticking around this time? I know how little you think your behavior affects that boy. Really, dear. Don’t think I haven’t seen how you tense around him.”
Emma gaped in the rapidly thickening tension. This was the woman she forced her love upon. Regina had rejected her in no uncertain terms, so to be unwillingly confronted by her years later was nothing if not awkward. Awkward, Emma thought humorlessly. What an understatement of the century.
“Okay,” settled Emma, raising her hands. “It’s obvious I haven’t been around lately –“
“Lately?”
“A long while. With all that time and separation comes confusion. And I know how you don’t like assumptions.”
She remembered that at least. Regina just stared, grinding her heel into the soft, area rug.
“If you care to ask me where I’ve been all these years, I’d be happy to fill you in, but you don’t look to be in the mood for a long story.”
“How perceptive.”
Emma bit down on a groan and drove on. “While I vowed to do some soul searching during my time away, I found myself more often than not employed in searching for other people’s souls. When Henry asked, I gave him the impression that I work as a bail bonds agent.” Eye contact with her part-time superior officer and full-time etiquette compass became too much. She scratched her neck idly before waving it in a rolling motion. “What I didn’t tell him was that I still jet around to do the occasional side job.”
Regina pinned her with a glare that felt awfully familiar and air quoted, “Would ‘side job’ be your euphemism for piracy?”
“It’s not like the whole business is steeped in illegitimacy, Regina. The contractors Killian’s set me up with have made tons of safe, honest deals.”
Brown eyes soared up. “Mm-hm, name one.”
A steady tick-tick-tick filled the air. It seemed to grow louder by the second. Emma glanced at the clock behind Regina and swore she read it earlier than this night felt. She sighed long and arduously. “Look, this is not how I wanted to tell you, but now seems like no better time. There is something I found for a client. It was my most recent job. Not exactly an object or a keepsake, but data.”
Growing slowly enthralled by this turn of events, Regina furrowed her brow. “Intelligence?”
“For a friend of our mutual friend, Zane Anderson.”
Regina’s hands dropped to fists at her sides. “That’s where you’ve been all this time? With the blasted Freedom Raiders?!”
Oh, Emma realized in panic. “Not what you think,” she defended pointedly. A cursing Regina was a solar storm in the making. If she didn’t reverse course she’d find herself in a vicious black hole of condemnation à la Regina Mills. “My client wasn’t a Raider per say. He dealt more in the public sector… government stuff…” Emma’s eyes rolled up and over with feigned nonchalance. “… Kind of along the lines of, say, Cosmofleet?”
“Well, well,” Regina intoned sarcastically, “isn’t that heartening to hear? What other higher echelons have you been fraternizing with? The gods’ forsaken United Planets?!”
“Wow. Cool your –“
Regina silenced her with a single raised finger. “Don’t make mechanic jokes.”
Emma had the sense to feel guilty about that and mumbled a paltry, “Sorry. You could be a bit more understanding. I’m not asking for much here. All I meant to say is I did this job for someone in the fleet who needed to recon a sector of the Outer Reach. The Council has been playing it so blasted safe lately that some commanders have been hiring outside help.”
“To do their dirty work, Emma.” This time, Regina’s stubbornness came with a measure of concern. “You surely must grasp that doing any job, great or small, for Cosmofleet does not come without price.”
“I do, which is why I made it my last job.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, you’ll be happy to know I grew a few more brain cells since we last saw each other.”
Regina barely had the sense to dampen her swelling pride. To betray any sign of what was occurring inside her would just complicate things further. “This is not the time to being discussing this. It’s late, I’m tired, and that boy scared the life out of me today.”
Emma watched as she turned away, covering a still racing heart with her hand. Her face was worn with a gravity of concern all mothers felt around narrowly avoided disasters.
Steeling herself, Emma shuffled her feet and fought the wince out of her voice. “We should probably talk about him.”
Regina’s head snapped up. It was like she was struck by lightening. Her eyes never looked so alive, her body never so emblazoned with… something close to protectiveness. “If by him you mean Henry then I’m not entirely sure we should. In fact, I don’t think you have any place in the conversation after taking off like you did. You lost the right to have that conversation when you left him with me.”
If Emma had been standing any closer she would have caught fire, and not from the healthy flames licking at the firewood but from the boiling woman before her. “It was either leave him or make him wait around for his mom to grow up and take charge. I couldn’t ask that of him. I still believe this was for his own good.”
“If you had an iota of courage to stick around, you would have realized it wasn’t.”
“I wasn’t good enough for him!” Emma barked, letting a bit of steam off.
Anger filled her cheeks red. She had a lot of things to get off her chest and the worst of it slipped from her grasp quicker than she realized. Regina was right: Emma had no business asking about Henry. She cut all ties like the irresponsible girl she was – no transmission, no hologram, not a single birthday or Christmas card. Emma carried the shame as punishment. Not even her destiny as the Savior compared to that weight.
Before, she had been terrified of reclaiming her son back. She missed out on so much and before she knew it Henry would be a teenager. He was growing so fast and Emma just didn’t have it in her to raise a child she abandoned. In a way, she made the same decision her parents made for her. They left, never to return. The fact that Henry had memories of her just made it all the more agonizing.
But with Regina’s protective nature burning like a supergiant star, Emma went on the offensive. Now she had a change of heart. Regina was sparking a fight in her, a will to claim what was rightfully hers. Be it jealousy or a sense of responsibility, Emma wanted her son back.
“I wasn’t what he needed me to be then, but I am now,” she said firmly. “I’ve been taking care of myself like I promised, but I can’t just keep going on like this.” Emma’s vision clouded with unshed tears. Her voice shook with the realization of just how much she needed him and how she could have possible survived this long without his love. “I need to be there for him. After everything, I am bound to make it up to him by staying for one gods damned minute and asking about my son.”
The challenge had Regina’s fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Panic flickered across her face. “I have been Henry’s legal guardian for three years and five months. What am I supposed to do? Just hand him over to you?”
“I’m his mother, Regina.”
“Not since you threw him at me. You couldn’t shoot out of that hanger fast enough.”
“I left him with you because I trust you. Gratitude doesn’t begin to explain how I feel. I thank you for all you’ve done for him, but I’m back now and I think it’s time we discuss accommodations.”
“You picked one hell of a time to come to your senses.” Tipping her head condescendingly, Regina shot back, “How ironic that your little about-face occurred on the night your son came to find you.”
“Well, I have an ironic sense of humor!” Emma’s arms flew out for emphasize. “So shoot me!”
“I’d take too much pleasure in it, dear.”
“He belongs with me.” Emma gritted her teeth and repeated more forcefully. “I’m his mother!”
“As am I!”
The testimony bellowed through the study, stunning its occupants. It flew from Regina’s lips with such passion it could have had the walls quaking and whimpering in fear.
Emma and Regina, eyes wide and chests heaving, both took a step back. It was unconscious, as if at the back of their minds they knew this was too dangerous. Love and friendship, honor and family, it all had a way of bringing them to the precipice.
Regina’s quite unapologetic expression spurred Emma to stand down. There was no going up against a mother’s love, after all. She combed her hand through her hair, wondering how two people like them had gotten to this place. She and Regina had always run hot and cold with each other, but this was just blasted unreal.
Feeling the heat of the fire on her face, Emma realized she needed to get out of there. She needed to breathe and not see those dazzling faces burning into her from on the mantelpiece. Neutral ground would pose her no threat and would not leave her heart rattling in its cage.
“We shouldn’t decide anything,” Emma said softly, keeping her searching eyes on the floor. “As you said, it’s late.”
“Yes, it is.”
Regina’s annoyance faltered in light of Emma’s downcast gaze. Her eyes were dark yet shining in the orange glow of the flames and there were new lines and crinkles around her eyes and mouth. Emma’s aged face saw many things the past four years, but Regina realized that nothing in what she’d experienced in the known galaxy could write that kind of sorrow into her face like the loss of her son.
If only they know how similar their thoughts ran. With Henry’s well-being at stake, the self-subscribed parents cursed their impulsivity. If Emma tore him away from Regina, that distance, emotional and physical, would damage him irrevocably. It wasn’t fair to drag him from the decent home he’d ever had or the woman who fed and clothed and cared for him better than Emma ever could. If Regina kept him from his own mother, then she’d run the risk of pushing Henry away from her forever. Henry wouldn’t forgive either of them.
Also in jeopardy was Emma’s and Regina’s well-being. They each had a hand in raising him and molding his psyche as only a loving guardian and parent could. They both considered themselves to be a significant part of his life.
They came to some wordless agreement (in their way of diverting eyes and shuffling feet) that they were avoiding the issue rather than just postponing it for a while. It was preferable to opening up old resentments like battle wounds. They couldn’t know just how long it would be avoided.
Emma chanced a glance and blinked back at what she saw. She couldn’t know how she missed it before but Regina looked severely worn out. She hardly held herself up to the height of a captain anymore. The woman had probably been pacing the floor like a saberwolf earlier. If Emma had been in her position, she too would have been tied up in knots about the safety of Henry.
“I’d like to see him in the morning. Before he goes to school, that is.” Emma’s mouth hesitated, mind fumbling over itself. “If you don’t think that’s a good idea… then I guess I could call him later?”
Regina took a moment to consider. Her brows came together in a frown. “I don’t know…”
Nodding quickly as if expecting the outcome, Emma settled with an, “Okay, then.” She spun on her heel and made quickly for the front door. “Comm me when you make a decision about Henry.” She stopped in the foyer, unaware of the pair of heels arresting from behind. “I’d like to see him… talk to him or whatever, but if he’s not ready or you don’t think…” She shook her head and rushed for the door. “Whatever. I’m going to go.”
“Emma, wait,” Regina called, hurrying after her. “Wait.”
Emma whirled around and before she could say anything her heart tripped in a most Swan-like manner. A face stared back, a face wracked with a melting pot of emotions. The turmoil in choosing which one Regina felt most in that moment displayed in the line between her brows, the flush to her cheeks, the rapid pulse of her neck, and the tick of her temple’s nerve. There were too many signs to count or identify, so Emma just settled on the one she wanted most.
She swallowed and croaked, “Yeah?”
“How far of a drive do you have?”
“Couple of hours,” she replied with a perplexed shrug. “Why?”
“That fog will only grow worse as the night goes on. You should not risk it.” Regina turned suddenly and started for a hallway closet. Then, as if an afterthought, she threw over her shoulder, “Henry would be displeased to find you gone in the morning.”
Emma deadpanned. “He expects me to stay the night?” Try as she had, she was unable to keep the shock out of her voice.
Instead of answering, Regina reappeared with an armload of clean white linens. She handed Emma two pillows and started leading the way up the stairs.
Once Emma got over the speed at which Regina accepted her into her home, she followed after like she was walking a dream.
Even after entering the guest bedroom with all its subdued character, Emma had a hard time grasping the generosity. “Why are you doing this?”
Regina’s steady hands swept the wrinkles out of the sheet before tucking the ends under the mattress. “He shouldn’t have to wake up and find you gone. It took quite some time for him to sleep soundly and I don’t want him to have to go through that again.”
It stung, hearing of the pain she had caused him, but Emma had a feeling that’s not how Regina meant it.
“Just tonight,” maintained Emma as she pitched in to make the bed. “I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”
Nodding once, Regina skirted a safe distance around her guest to touch up the other side of the bed. “Of course not.”
“I can do that.”
Surprised, Regina stepped aside to let Emma handle the bedspread. She should have sworn from experience that whenever Emma insisted she do something herself it was best to let her do her thing – despite how much it might irk her methods.
Regina watched Emma’s fumbling strategy in tucking the pillow under her chin to pull the pillowcase on from the other end. It shouldn’t have taken this long, but then Emma was being Emma by doing things ass backwards.
Finally, Regina stopped the fussing by closing a hand around Emma’s wrist. Emma hesitated, the tip of her tongue caught between her lips in concentration. The pillow was still clamped between chin and chest, but soon dropped forgotten to the bed.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
If Regina had not still been holding her eyes to the hand on Emma’s wrist, she would have seen the puppy dog guilt sagging Emma’s features and smiled. Instead, she felt kept by the racing pulse under her fingers. Oblivious to the eyes burning through her, Regina closed her own eyes and counted.
Emma frowned, wondering why Regina wasn’t letting go and why her head was bowed in something close to embarrassment (or fear of looking up). Finally, Regina’s eyes ascended.
Their eyes met, intense and begging for what ifs. Regina, unknowingly holding her breath, dropped her stare to Emma’s mouth. Hopelessly captivated, she dipped in, catching the gasp with her own. The pressure of her chaste kiss became defined by half-fulfilled expectations and starved of satisfaction. They were reaching for something outside their grasp, but too tentative to venture over the line.
Later, Regina would agonize over the act of kissing her. Why did she do it? It’d been four years – did Emma even feel the same way? In any case, she shouldn’t be worrying over a stupid kiss. She had more important things to think about: Henry and this latest Cosmofleet job Emma spoke of.
But right then the kiss felt practical. It certainly shut Emma up and it did feel good, like she regained something missing for an unbearable length of time.
When Regina drew back she sensed the hand on her hip. Emma gripped her like she feared the whole house would decompress and suck all the oxygen out. She held on for gravity, for a concrete certainty in her universe. Regina smiled lightly, having never taken the woman for the clinging type.
“What?” asked Emma, dipping her head.
“Nothing. It’s… I’m glad to see you back, that’s all.”
“It’s good to be back.” Emma’s hand squeezed the place on Regina’s hip before slipping away.
“Late… it’s late,” Regina fumbled, blushing frantically. She wagged her finger over her shoulder, backing away. “I should go and let you get your sleep.”
Emma bit down on a grin. “Goodnight, Regina.”
“Goodnight, Emma.”